A Tale From The Sand
by VVSINGOFTHECROSS
Summary: Jon is raised by Ashara. Is he a Sand or a snow? Or something more, much more than that? Robb/ Alys. Later Jon/ Alys and Jon/Alys/Sansa and Sansa/Willas
1. Chapter 1

**Tales From The Sand**

He can still remember the sight of Princess Elia and her children's bodies at the foot of the Iron Throne. He can still remember how mangled baby Aegon's head was- smashed in beyond- recognition. He can still remember the look of perverse satisfaction on Robert's face as Tywin Lannister laid the bodies at the foot of throne as proof of his loyalty. He can still remember arguing with Robert for days on end about how the princess and her children's deaths were unnecessary, were barbaric. He remembers Robert claiming that Lya would never wish to look upon the Dragonspawn once she became his queen, he remembered arguing- no shouting- at Robert that Lyanna would more than likely be horrified that Robert had condoned such an atrocity, had essentially climbed over the dead princess and her children's bodies to claim his throne. Silently he added that perhaps when Lya came back she might also be carrying 'Dragonspawn' with her, if his suspicions were correct.

It came as a relief then when the missive came from Starfall indicating where Lyanna had been kept by Rhaegar throughout the war. He rode with six companions first to Storm's End to lift the siege there and to get the Tyrells and their bannermen to dip their banners. Then after a month's hard riding they finally came to Dorne, the desert homeland of Princess Elia. In a tower far from the battle, far from the fighting, he found three of the finest knights of the Kingsguard standing in front of the tower, preventing him from rescuing his sister. They fought fiercely, they thought honourably, but at the end of it all they still died, the Kingsguard and five of his companions all dead. He rushed up the tower but was too late to save his sister, Lyanna Stark died in a bed of blood with a crown of blue roses in one hand and a promise on her lips.

Ned took the babe from her, unsure of what he was going to do, how he was going to explain the babe. He rode to Starfall; first to give Lady Ashara Dawn, and her brother back, three horses rode out to Starfall. When they arrived the castle was in a state of mourning, of course they would be the whole of Dorne would be in mourning, for they had lost their princess, lost her to the cold hearted deviance of a man known as a lion, and to her husband's madness. When he meets Ashara Dayne he sees a speck of the woman she was before Harrenhal, grief and motherhood have worn into her, have drawn thick lines into her forehead, though her violent eyes still look hauntingly beautiful, the laughter seems to have died in them.

She says nothing when he hands her dawn, and offers his condolences. But when the babe- Jon he has decided to call him- begins to fuss, she perks up and speaks. "He's Rhaegar's child, isn't he?"

Ned is unsure how to reply, he has a lie half formed on his lips, when she presses a finger to his mouth and says, "Do not think of lying to me Lord Eddard. You were not good at lying at Harrenhal, and I doubt you would have improved since then. The boy is Rhaegar's and your sister's."

Ned simply nods, helpless and unsure of what to say or do now. She always knew how to see past him, even when they danced at Harrenhal. "What will you do with him? You can't very well bring him back to King's Landing with you can you? Your friend King Robert will kill him."

Ned wants to argue with her, wants to shout that Robert is a better man than that. But he knows deep down, in his heart of hearts that when it comes to Targaryens Robert is as mad as Aerys was about them. He is silent for a moment before he speaks. The words coming out as nothing more than a whisper. "I mean to claim him as my own."

Ashara laughs then. "Oh Ned, dearest Ned. You're intentions are honourable no doubt. But what of your Tully Wife, what will she have to say when you bring the boy home, and claim him as your own. She will never understand why you did it, will she Ned? No better to leave him here with me, where he will be safe and protected."

He is stunned by the suggestion. "My lady, I couldn't no. He is my responsibility. I promised Lya."

Ashara looks at him then with a look she gave him once at Harrenhal. "Yes that's all very well and good, but if Lyanna and Rhaegar had had more sense, you wouldn't have had to make any promises, and you wouldn't have to lie. No leave the boy here with me, Ned. Here at least he will know he is loved and cared for. And besides, he can grow up besides our daughter also."

Ned swallows and feels his heart sink in his chest. "Ashara," he begins meaning to beg her to see sense.

But she shakes her head stubbornly. "No Ned, leave the boy here, let him grow up loved and cared for. Let him grow up with his cousin, with our daughter Ned. You can go back to Winterfell with your Tully wife and your children with her. Let me stay here, let our daughter stay here. Let the world think that the two of them are mine, they whisper that it was Brandon who bedded me at Harrenhal, let them believe it. From now on your Lya's boy is mine and Brandon's bastard son, just as our daughter is mine and Brandon's bastard daughter. I won't let you smirch your name for some foolish cause, nor shall I let you take my daughter away from me."

He wants to argue with her, he wants to make her see that their daughter would be well loved for and cared at Winterfell just as Jon would be, though he knows somewhere deep down that that could never be. So instead he swallows deeply and says, "Very well then. But when they are eight, they will come and foster with me and mine at Winterfell. I will do as you say Ashara, but please I promised Lya I would protect her boy."

Ashara merely nods then, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and he desperately wants to go and comfort her but he knows that that is no longer his place. He has a wife now, and he must do right by her, he must. So he stands up to leave, passing Jon to Ashara, and just before he leaves though he says to her, "His name is Jon. Lya's boy." He hears Ashara say something in response, and then he has mounted his horse and has ridden on back north with Howland. A thousand thoughts whirring in his head.

Howland is a silent companion for the whole ride north, the only time they speak is when they discuss where to make camp for the night. He had sent a raven from Starfall before leaving informing Robert of Lyanna's death, and that same night swore Howland to secrecy about Lya's boy. When he enters the courtyard in Winterfell, he feels a deep ache begin to bloom in his chest, as he remembers similar entrances made when he would come back from the Vale, those times his father, his mother, Brandon, Lya and Benjen would all be in the courtyard waiting for him, with a hug a smile or a playful smack on the back. This time though, Winterfell is bleak and full of ghosts, he wanders the castle feeling empty, drowning in memories. There are times when he is alone with Benjen and the two of them reminisce about times long since passed, he tells Benjen about Jon, and his daughter Jeyne, though he tells Benjen that they are both Brandon's bastards by Ashara, even though the lie grates on him, and he tells Benjen that they will be coming to foster at Winterfell when they are eight. Benjen nods his acceptance and then tells him that he wishes to take the black. Ned nods his acceptance, all the while crying inside for it feels like his pack is breaking up all around him and there is nothing he can do to stop it from happening.

He has been in Winterfell for a moon when his wife arrives. She arrives with their son, whom she informs him is called Robb, and he feels something beginning to bloom inside of him when he looks at his son's face, something that feels akin to hope. Once she has been settled in and has been in Winterfell for a few days, he plucks up the courage one day to speak with her about the children in the south. He means to tell his wife the truth but instead finds himself speaking the lie, and he hates himself for it. "My lady," he begins, his resolve beginning to falter as he watches Catelyn put her brush down and turn round to look at him. He swallows and goes on. "There is something you need to know," she remains silent, he swallows once more and goes on. "As much as it pains me to say this, Brandon was not faithful to your betrothal. He has two children with Ashara Dayne. They live in Starfall. A boy called Jon and a girl called Jeyne. I met them when I came back from the south." He hopes she will not ask him about his time in the south, for he does not think that he could bear to go on if she did.

Catelyn merely looks at him before asking, "There is nothing more is there, my lord?"

He shakes his head and then says. "I asked for them to be sent here for fostering when they turn eight. I wish to know my brother's children. I hope that is ok with you my lady."

Catelyn smile then and says, "Of course my lord, it is only right."

He smiles at her then. Thankful that she has accepted what he has had to say without too much complaint. He receives updates on how his nephew and niece- daughter- are doing every moon, their progress written in Ashara's flowing handwriting that he knows so well from letters past, and he feels something like pain stab him, though he also feels guilt, knowing that they are being well looked after and cared for. He waits for the day when he can look them in the eye and welcome them to their home. As he watches his own children with Catelyn grow he waits for the day when he can see them all of them at play.

And he prays to the old gods, that they never know the suffering that he and his siblings did.

* * *

**Ashara**

She watches Eddard Stark ride out of Starfall with his companion the cranongmen Howland Reed, and she feels like a part of her is being ripped apart inside. She knows it is for the best, it is for the best if Jon Targaryen becomes Jon Sand and grows up with his cousin- sister- Jeyne Sand, she knows it is better if the world thinks they are Brandon Stark's children. It will be much safer for Jon, and will at least mean that Jeyne knows something of her father, though of course Brandon Stark never laid with her at Harrenhal. No he introduced her to his shyer, quieter and much less handsome brother Eddard Stark. At first she had been curious, she had danced with Ned for most of the night, and afterwards had invited him back to her room, he had of course declined, and that had only piqued her interest further. She spent the rest of the tournament pursuing him and trying to win him over, until finally the day before the jousting and the day before everything went to pot, she managed to finally break Ned's iron discipline, and she brought him to her bed.

Oh it had been a lovely feeling and sensation, though afterwards she had thought it just a onetime thing. But then he had slowly wormed his way into her heart, he wrote to her constantly and at first she had only written back to him out of courtesy, but then she wrote to him simply because she wished to, and then because she couldn't go a day without writing to him, for he was always in her thoughts, and then she realised she was pregnant. Then she was worried, for Rickard and Brandon Stark had already been killed and the rebellion had already begun, she knew she could not write to him for any ravens would be intercepted and so she had maintained her silence throughout, and then when she heard that he had wed Catelyn Tully in his brother's place, she had wept and wept, and only Elia's soothing words had managed to calm her. Arthur had escorted her back to Starfall before he had been sent with the Lord Commander to find Rhaegar, and so she had given birth in Starfall.

She and Ned's daughter looked exactly like her, dark brown hair and violet eyes, but her smile, her persona was all Ned. She was a quiet baby, as was Jon. She watched as her daughter and her adopted son grew, and she felt herself swell with pride as she watched Jeyne and then Jon hot on her heels take their first steps together, she felt herself cry tears of happiness when both of their first words were "mother". She watches as her children grow up close to her sister Allyria, and her nephew Edric. She watches them play with each other, and then when they visit the Water Gardens she watches them play with Doran and Oberyn's children and she feels her heart swell with love.

Allem, Doran, Oberyn and Ellaria help she thinks. Oberyn it seems is particularly understanding of the situation she finds herself in, though of course he knows not the truth of either of her child's parentage, only Allem knows and he knows not to speak of it openly. So she finds herself worrying when Oberyn tells her that Doran wishes to see her. Doran's illness has slowly been getting worse, it had been present before the rebellion but since Elia's death and the subsequent uproar caused by it his health had been slowly failing. But he still was an imposing man and not one to underestimate despite what the Lannisters and Robert Baratheon might think.

He was seated on a chair overlooking the water gardens and the children at play. Areo Hotah his guard stood in the shadows behind him. "Ashara, it has been a long time since you played there has it not."

"Yes my prince it has. I used to play there with Oberyn and Elia." She replied cautiously.

"Yes so it has. Tell me Ashara, have you thought about perhaps sending Jon to squire for Oberyn? It would be an invaluable experience I'm sure."

She swallows nervously before saying. "Whilst it would be an honour for Jon to squire for Oberyn my prince, Jon will be going with Jeyne to Winterfell very soon to foster there and to get to know his cousins a bit better."

Doran sighs and says "Of course, forgive me. I'm forgetting more and more with my old age. Very well then, I wish Jon and Jeyne the best."

"Thank you my prince." She says as she bows and walks out.

It feels like the years truly have flown by when she gets into the wheelhouse with Jeyne, Allyria and Edric with Jon and Allem riding on horseback and Jeyne's sworn sword Arthur riding on horseback as well. Exactly eight years to the day that she last saw Eddard Stark and now she and her family ride to Winterfell so that Jon and Jeyne can be fostered there, she feels a pit of nerves beginning to grow in her stomach, she looks out of the wheelhouse to where Jon sits and he smiles at her, that cheeky smile that reminds her so much of Ned's smile it almost breaks her heart, and then their journey begins.

They stop off at various inns and keeps along the way to Winterfell, at one point they stop at the Twins and are greeted most hostilely by Walder Frey, who makes countless insults and poor timed japes about Dornishmen and their promiscuity. Only Allem and Arthur's calming presence restrains Jon and Jeyne and Allyria from lashing out at the old man. When they leave the Twins to begin the journey north, Ashara makes sure to tell Allem to book passage on a ship for their return journey.

Winterfell appears on the horizon two weeks after they set out from the Twins and Ashara feels a lump begin to settle in her throat, this should have been hers not Catelyn Tully's all of it. But she can't think of that now, so instead she puts on a brave face, and helps introduce herself and her family to the Starks of Winterfell. Ned is the same as ever, gruff and somber, his wife Catelyn Tully is all fiery red hair and beautiful, Robb Stark the heir to Winterfell looks like his mother except more masculine and little Sansa Stark looks exactly like a miniature version of her mother. Arya Stark is the only one of the Stark children to look like Ned, even at two she seems to be a fierce thing with lots of life, Ashara remembers another Stark girl who was also as fierce and how that ended with a bed of blood, and a broken promise, she shakes the thoughts from her head to prevent them from taking root.

She and Allem watch from the high table during the feast as Jon and Jeyne nervously speak with Robb and Theon Greyjoy, Ned's ward from the Greyjoy Rebellion. Jeyne was born smaller than a normal baby and as such suffers from ill health, she is frail, just like Elia was and just like Elia, she has a brother who is fiercely protective of her. Jon nearly hits Theon Greyjoy in the nose when the boy says something about Jeyne's frail health, and she and Allem share a knowing look, though she can tell from the expression on Ned's face that some memory must have been stirred up at the scene.

Overall their time in Winterfell is pleasant albeit a little awkward, for the north and Dorne will never truly recover from what Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark did. Though before she leaves her children for what could possibly be the last time, she speaks with Jon the night before they are set to leave.

"You wanted to see me mama?" Jon asks, and Ashara can tell he is impatient to go off and play with Robb and Theon.

She smiles then and brushes back a loose curl from his forehead. "Yes I did Jon," she pauses and then takes a deep breath before going on. "I just want you to know how proud I am of you and of Jeyne. I know that this might seem very scary, but I want you to know that you will be fine, and if you ever, every need anything I am only a raven's letter away, and I will come."

Jon looks at her through his curls, and she can swear she sees a little of the Targaryen in his eyes, they seem momentarily purple in the light. She continues, "I want you and Jeyne to look after each other okay. Don't leave each other alone. You are strongest when together ok sweetling."

Jon nods and says "Ok mama."

She smiles and kisses him on his brow and then says "Goodnight Jon."

The next day she, Allem, Allyria and Edric ride back for Starfall leaving Jon, Jeyne and Arthur behind.


	2. Merciless Times

**Varys**

He had been in King's Landing for neigh on twenty years now. He had first come to King's Landing to serve King Aerys the second, after Duskendale Aerys had been convinced that his own shadow was out to get him, and so having heard of a man across the narrow sea with a penchant for gathering secrets and information had him sent for. And so Varys had arrived in King's Landing the capital city of Westeros all those years ago and had set to work. It had taken him some time to get into the King's good graces, but once he had Aerys listened to his whispers and council more frequently than he did his own hand, the mighty Tywin Lannister. It had been on Varys' suggestion that Aerys had married Prince Rhaegar to Elia Martell, the better to strengthen ties to a kingdom that had been part of the royal family before. Of course Varys could not have foreseen how frail and sickly Princess Elia truly was, she only managed to give Prince Rhaegar two children, and Prince Aegon was born during his father's absence from the capital, whilst he was away with the Stark Girl.

Rhaegar died on the Trident and Aerys panicked, he refused to send Princess Elia and her children to Dorne where they would be safe, instead he kept them close by as hostages, and when Tywin Lannister was knocking on the gates, for the first time since Varys had been in his service Aerys ignored his advice and followed the advice of that turncoat Pycelle and opened the gates, and of course the rest as they say is history. Tywin Lannister sacked the city, and had his men butcher Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys. The man and the rest of Westeros believed that Prince Aegon had been killed by Gregor Clegane, but Varys knew that was a lie, for when news of the Trident had reached the city, Princess Elia had come and found him and begged him to protect her son, and so he had, he found a pisswater prince in the slums of Flea Bottom and bought him from his father for a jug of Arbor Gold, and then brought that pisswater prince into the Red Keep, and had Aegon smuggled across the narrow sea with Varys' own sister to Pentos and to a waiting Illyrio Mopatis.

He had of course been pardoned by King Robert when he ascended the throne, along with the Kingslayer and Ser Barristan Selmy and Pycelle, though if Varys had had his way Pycelle would be rotting on a spike on the walls of the Red Keep. With a new reign had come new players, Tywin Lannister happy now that his daughter was queen and that his grandson would be king returned to the Rock. Robert Baratheon made Jon Arryn his hand, and with Jon Arryn soon came Petyr Baelish. Now Jon Arryn epitomised his house words, he carried out his dealings honourably and without a hint of deceit, he skilfully managed to negotiate a peace with Dorne when they were calling for blood, but he lacked the skills to effectively play the game and for that he was paying the price. Baelish, the man was cunning by half and smart as well, he knew the game and how to play it, he was carrying out an illicit affair with the Hand's wife right under the man's nose, and kept Jon Arryn none the wiser. Cersei Baratheon, was more Lannister than ever, she played the game well but had little patience to truly nurture the seeds that she planted and for that she would be found out and dealt with in due time.

When word reached him through his little birds that Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon had been seen walking the streets of King's Landing together, he knew that they were discovering the truth of Cersei's children's heritage, that they were in fact the Kingslayer's and not Robert's. Varys had found out the truth long ago, when Princess Myrcella came out with the same golden locks as her mother, Pycelle knew of course, but the man was so deep in Tywin Lannister's pockets that he would never, ever say a word to Robert. Baelish found out later of course, but also said nothing to Robert or to Jon Arryn about it, to suit his own ends. And Varys, he did not tell Robert Baratheon the truth, for what good would the word of a former Targaryen loyalist do to prove anything against the Queen and the might of Casterly Rock. No he laid subtle hints along the way for Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon to follow and to find, it was he who suggested that he read a book by Maester Mullion about the lineages of the Great Houses knowing that he would find the confirmation that he was looking for. Then the man fell ill, and Varys suspected that perhaps Cersei Lannister had played her hand early, it made no matter he would adjust his plans, if war was to come he would be ready, he would make sure the rightful king was ready.

He kept an eye on Viserys and Danaerys, they may have wandered across the Free Cities no better than common beggars, but Varys always made sure that they had food and shelter, and that the hired assassins that Robert sent after them always entered the city after they had left. He knew it was too risky to have them meet with Aegon whilst Viserys was still alive, for the innocent boy whom Varys remembered from King's Landing had become mad, insanely mad during his time in exile and would more than likely kill his nephew, so Varys was determined that Viserys had to die before Aegon could meet the rest of his family.

He had also been keeping an eye on Dorne since the rebellion; he knew that that kingdom still seethed with the injustice. Prince Oberyn had tried to get Dorn to rise up in rebellion for Prince Viserys, but his older brother Prince Doran had a cooler head and had prevailed, it had been Prince Doran and not Prince Oberyn who had negotiated the peace with Jon Arryn. Though it had been Prince Oberyn who had gone to Bravos to negotiate a marriage pact between Viserys and Arianne Martell. Varys knew this and yet he kept it close to his chest, it would do no good for Robert to know, the man hungered for war, he had not fought a battle since the Greyjoy rebellion and yet still mourned his lady Lyanna, he had become a shadow of the man he had been during the rebellion, and yet Varys knew that the man had to die, but not too soon, if Aegon was to ever reclaim the throne for Robert had the undying loyalty of the north, and with it the Riverlands and the Vale. Joffrey however, did not.

* * *

**Robb**

The summer snows were falling in Winterfell, had been falling for some days now. Robb did not truly mind, after all it gave him something else to think about other than his upcoming nuptials. It was not that he did not like Alys Karstark, he liked her well enough, she was pretty and she was funny, it was just that he knew that this was sign that he was becoming a man, and he was not so sure he was ready to give up on his childhood just yet.

He heard a knock on the door, and said for whoever it was to come in. His cousin Jon entered the room. Robb smiled at him, since Jon had arrived with his sister Jeyne at the age of eight, the three of them had become quite close. Robb had enjoyed having a boy his own age to play with, had enjoyed trading japes and stories with Jon and Theon, and had been happy that Sansa had someone to play with and follow as well in Jeyne. Of course Sansa had turned into a right little lady since those days and now spent most of her time sewing and doing other ladylike pursuits with Septa Mordane, and so it had fallen to Arya to take to following he, Jon and Theon around. Jeyne because of her frail health spent most of the time with Sansa sewing, though Robb knew she hated it.

"You look grim Stark. Come on I'm sure Lady Alys isn't that bad." Jon said.

"Ah Sand, you don't know the half of it." Robb joked.

He saw Jon give one of his rare smiles, and heard him reply. "Are you nervous Robb?"

"Aye," Robb said, it was true he was very nervous.

Jon grinned at him then, and he knew some jape was about to come out of his cousin's mouth. "Well you shouldn't be. All that time you spent with her the last time she was here, I think you're both more than knowledgeable of what you'll have to do when the time comes." Robb blushed and cursed at his cousin, causing Jon to laugh uproariously.

Once Jon had finished laughing, he turned serious and asked. "But seriously how are you doing?"

Robb smiled, it was just like Jon to worry about others, putting everyone else's concerns before his own. "I'm good Jon, truly I am. How's Jeyne doing?" Jeyne had fallen ill a few days past and they were worried that she might not be able to attend the wedding, or worse she might not even be able to get out of bed in time for when her and Jon's mother came to visit.

Robb saw Jon's body tense, as it so often did when talk turned to Jeyne, his cousin was very, very protective of his sister. Robb remembered once when they had been no older than Arya was now, Jon had broken some stable boy's jaw, because the stable boy had made a joke about Jeyne's frail health. The boy had been dismissed from Winterfell, and Jon had been reprimanded by Robb's father and mother, though secretly Robb knew that they both approved of what Jon had done. Jon sighed. "She's getting better; this illness was harder on her than it should have been. Luwin says that she should be fine and should be up and about in time for the wedding though."

Robb smiled reassuringly at Jon, "That's good then isn't it?"

Jon merely grunted. "I hope so, or I may need to have words with Luwin."

They both shared a laugh at that, though they both knew that if something did happen to Jeyne, Jon would be distraught and would more than likely blame himself for it even though it wouldn't be his fault.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and early, the whole of the north had come to see the son of the Ned marry, and so Winterfell was filled to bursting. The Karstarks had been the first to arrive of course, Alys Robb's betrothed had simply glided into the great hall, and Robb had felt himself growing oddly flustered in her presence, something that had caused Jon and Theon to jape about constantly, since. Next had come the Umbers, the giants of Last Hearth, bellowing about this and that, then had come the Boltons, Roose and his household, his bastard was not welcome, then the Hornwoods, the Manderlys, the Cerwyns, and the mountain clans. The last to come from Dorne, Jon and Jeyne's mother Lady Ashara with their cousin Edric Dayne the new Lord of Starfall.

Robb was stood by the heart tree in the godswood dressed in his house colours of grey, when he saw Alys walking in on the arm of her father the gruff Rickard Karstark, she looked lovely, truly she did, and Robb felt the nerves begin to grow within him, soon he would be a married man. As her father led her up to the heart tree and left her to stand beside him, she flashed him a warm smile that Robb returned. Then they both turned to face the heart tree and Robb's father.

Lord Eddard was a solemn man by nature, though he loved his children and his niece and nephew dearly, and the pride in his voice could be heard as he began the wedding prayer. "We are gathered here today, to witness the uniting of two people, to see them bonded in the oldest and purest of traditions If there is any here who believe that this union should not happen, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace." A moment's silence, then Lord Eddard went on. "Who comes?"

Rickard Karstark stepped forward then and said "Alys of House Karstark. Who claims her?"

Robb stood forward and in as bold a voice as he could manage said. "Robb of House Stark comes to claim her."

Lord Eddard turned to them both then and said, "Marriage is a sacred bond between a man and his wife. Do you both swear to love and care for each other, to protect each other to the best of your abilities from this day, till the day you die?"

"I do," they said in unison.

"Do you swear it by Ice? Do you swear it by fire? Do you swear it by the old gods and the new?"

"I do." They replied.

"Then I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss."

Robb leaned down and brought Alys' face closer to his, and then brought his lips to hers. It was not the first time they had kissed, but it was the first time that they could do so in the open, and so Robb couldn't help it if he held the kiss for longer than perhaps was strictly appropriate, drawing many cat calls and wolf whistles, from some of the young men in attendance. They broke apart after a space, and then led the party back into the hall for the wedding feast, and then the bedding to come.

* * *

**Bran**

_The morning dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer. They set forth at daybreak to see a man beheaded, twenty in all, and Bran rode among them, nervous with excitement. This was the first time he had been deemed old enough to go with his lord father and his brother and cousin to see the king's justice done. It was the ninth year of summer, and the seventh of Bran's life._

_The man had been taken outside a small holdfast in the hills. Robb thought he was a wildling, his sword sworn to Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall. It made Bran's skin prickle to think of it. He remembered the hearth tales Old Nan told them. The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half human children._

_But the man they found bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice was old and scrawny, not much taller than Robb. He had lost both ears and a finger to frostbite, and he dressed all in black, the same as a brother of the Night's Watch, except that his furs were ragged and greasy._

_The breath of man and horse mingled, steaming, in the cold morning air as his lord father had the man cut down from the wall and dragged before them. Robb and Jon sat tall and still on their horses, with Bran between them on his pony, trying to seem older than seven, trying to pretend he'd seen all this before. A faint wind blew through the holdfast gate. Over their heads flapped the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice white field. _

_Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him seem older than his thirty five years. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. He had taken father's face off, Bran thought and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell._

_There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said. Finally, his lord father gave a command and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the centre of the square. They forced his head down onto the hard black wood. Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the sword. "Ice" that sword was called. It was as wide across as a man's hand and taller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian Steel, spell forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held and edge like Valyrian Steel._

_His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head._

_Bran's cousin Jon Sand moved closer. "Keep the pony well in hand," he whispered. "And don't look away. Uncle Ned will know if you do."_

_Bran kept his pony well in hand and did not look away. His father took the man's head off with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as summerwine . One of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep from bolting. Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched._

_Later as they rode back to Winterfell through the woods, Bran found himself speaking with his cousin Jon. "Do you still wish to take the black Jon? Knowing that that man spoke of wights and others?" He shivered involuntarily._

_His cousin chuckled and said. "Yes Bran, I still wish to take the black. There is honour in serving the Night's Watch and besides the man was a deserter and delusional, there are no wights and no white walkers." With that Bran watched as his cousin spurred his horse forward and raced after Robb and Theon Greyjoy._

_He was so deep in thought that he did not hear the rest of the party ride up until his father moved up beside him. "Are you well Bran?" he asked, not unkindly._

_"Yes, father," Bran told him. He looked up. Wrapped in his furs and leathers on his great warhorse, his lord father looked like a giant. "Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was afraid."_

_"What do you think?" his father asked._

_Bran thought about it for a moment then asked. "Can a man still be brave if he is afraid?"_

_"That is the only time a man can be brave." Was his father's solemn response._

_They saw Jon riding up fast toward them, he stopped his horse just short of them and said "Bran, Uncle come quickly. You have to see what we've found."_

_And so they followed Jon, riding until they were deep into the forest, the rest of the party following them. And there deep in the forest, they found Robb and Theon standing over a creature, that looked like a wolf, but was bigger than any wolf Bran had ever seen before, and it had a stag's antler jutting through its chest. Bran tore his gaze away from the creature and gave a cry of delight when he saw the bundle in Robb's arms. "Go on," Robb told him. "You can touch him."_

_Arguments soon broke out when Bran's lord father came, mutterings of how strange it was to see a direwolf south of the wall, of how the bitch had whelped pups, but whether or not the pups would survive or not was never truly discussed, until Theon tried to yank the pup Bran had in his hand out of his hand. Jon spoke then, "Lord Stark," it was strange to hear call father that, so formal. "There are five pups," he told father. "Three male, two female."_

_"What of it Jon?"_

_"You have five children," Jon said. "Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. Your children were meant to have these pups my lord."_

_Lord Eddard regarded Jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk and give him suck from that."_

_"Me too!" echoed Bran._

_The lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?"_

_Bran nodded eagerly. The pup squirmed in his grasp, licked at his face with a warm tongue._

_"You must train them as well," their father said. "You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalise them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulders as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"_

_"Yes father." Bran said._

_"Yes," Robb agreed._

_"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."_

_"They won't die," Robb said. "We won't let them die."_

_"Keep them then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."_

_It was not until they were mounted and on their way that Bran allowed himself to taste the sweet air of victory. By then, his pup was snuggled inside his leathers, warm against him, safe for the long ride home. Bran was wondering what to name him._

_Halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly._

_"What is it Jon? Bran's lord father asked._

_"Can't you hear it?"_

_Bran could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, the whimpering of his hungry pup, but Jon was listening to something else._

_"There," Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them smiling._

_"They must have crawled away from the others." Jon said._

_"Or been driven away," Bran's father said, looking at the two direwolf pups, one's fur was white, his eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. The other was a sandy yellow colour , with eyes that were as black as midnight. Bran thought it curious that these pups alone would have opened their eyes while the others were still blind._

_"An albino and a sickly pup," Theon said with wry amusement. "They'll die even faster than the others."_

_Jon gave the ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy." He said. "They belong to me and Jeyne."_

* * *

**Catelyn**

_Catelyn watched from the yard as her children and her niece and nephew played with their wolves. The boys had come back from the execution not as grim nor as quiet as she had come to expect, the reason for that she had soon found out. They had brought direwolf pups back with them, according to Maester Luwin these were the first Direwolves to be seen south of the wall in nigh on two hundred years._

_The children's excitement had been a joy to behold, they had each quickly chosen a direwolf, Robb's Greywind was as grey as his name suggested, Sansa had called hers lady, Arya named hers Nymeria after the warrior queen earning a smile from Lady Ashara, Bran was still unsure what to name his and was going through various names and trying to find the right one, Rickon had named his Shaggydog, Jon had named his albino Direwolf Ghost and Jeyne had named her sandy coloured direwolf Sandy._

_She watched her children play with their cousins, next to her Lady Ashara Jon and Jeyne's mother sat and watched them play as well. Ashara had come with her nephew for Robb's wedding to Alys Karstark a week past. She had only been to Winterfell once before, six years ago to leave Jon and Jeyne in Winterfell for fostering, though of course no date had been set for when the children would return to Starfall. Catelyn did not mind the children's presence in Winterfell, for one thing she thought that it was good that her own children knew their cousins, for another it was good that they had someone to play with other than each other, though she could not help but think of Jon and think of what she had heard of Ramsay Snow, Lord Bolton's Bastard who had it was rumoured killed his own true born brother Domeric a few years ago. She knew that perhaps she was being irrational and unfair to Jon, for he was a good lad, nice and kind, but she could not stop the fear that perhaps one day when he got older he would try and claim Winterfell from Robb, after all he was older than Robb, by a few months and Brandon had been the older sibling. _

_She was taken from her thoughts when one of the helpers gave her a letter, she noticed that it bore the royal sigil, curious as to what it could be she broke the letter open and read it quickly. She glanced at her children playing the courtyard and then excused herself from Lady Ashara's company, and made her way to the godswood, Ned would need to know of the news that had come. _

_She had never truly liked the godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across twinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers._

_The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years, as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armoured in grey green needles of might oaks of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names._

_But she knew she would find her husband here tonight. Whenever he took a man's life he would seek the quiet of the godswood. Sure enough she found him sitting on a rock facing the heart tree, cleaning Ice with a wet cloth and brush. When he noticed her presence they talked for a while about other things, such as how well Bran had done during the execution, about the children and their direwolves, and how they would soon need begin preparing the harvest for winter was soon to come. They also spoke about Jon and Jeyne, and how Jon wished to take the black and how Ashara and Jeyne were trying to convince him otherwise, though little reward._

_Once that was done, Catelyn breached the actual reason for her visit to a place she did not often care for. She took her husband's hand. "There was grievous news today, my lord. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself." There was no way to soften the blow so she told him straight. "I am so sorry my love. Jon Arryn is dead."_

_His eyes found hers and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the mad king Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon and falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect._

_And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully._

_"Jon..." he said. "Is this news certain?"_

_"It was the king's own seal, and the letter is in Robert's own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger for long in pain."_

_"That is some small mercy I suppose." He said. She could see the grief on his face, but even the he thought of her first. "Your sister, and Jon's boy. What word of them?"_

_"The message said only that they were well and had returned to the Eyrie. I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband's place not hers. Lord Jon's memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her."_

_"Your uncle waits in the Vale does he not? Jon named him knight of the gate. I'd heard."_

_Catelyn nodded. "Brynden will do what he can for her, and for the boy. That is some comfort, but still..."_

_"Go to her," Ned urged. "Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs other children about him, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief."_

_"Would that I could," she said. "The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to Winterfell to seek you out."_

_It took Ned a moment to comprehend her words but when the understanding came, the darkness left his eyes. "Robert is coming here?" When she nodded a smile broke across his face._

_Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its chest. Dread coiled in her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile, this man she loved put no faith in signs. "I knew that would please you." She said. "We should send word to your brother on the Wall, and ask Ashara to stay for a little while longer."_

_"Yes, of course." He agreed. "Ben will want to be here. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird." Ned rose and pulled her to her feet. "Damnation, how many years has it been? And he gives us no more notice than this? How many in his party, did the message say?"_

_"I should think a hundred knights, at least with all their retainers, and half again as many freeriders. Cersei and the children travel with them."_

_"Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes," he said. "It is just as well. That will give us more time to prepare."_

_"The queen's brothers are also in the party," she told him._

_Ned grimaced at that. There was small love between him and the Lannisters, and of course with Ashara here there would be tension because of her connection with Princess Elia. "Well, if the price for Robert's company is an infestation of Lannisters so be it. It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court."_

_"Where the king goes the realm follows." She said._

_"I just hope he does nothing untoward to provoke Ashara, she does not like him nor does he like the Dornish." Ned said, worried for a moment._

_"I will speak with her if you wish." Catelyn said knowing that he would agree, she got on well with Jon and Jeyne's mother. _

_"Very well then." Ned replied._


	3. The King Comes To Winterfell

**Jeyne**

It was a relatively warm day in Winterfell, well as warm as it could get with the summer snows. Even so Jeyne wrapped up in several layers just to make sure she did not catch a chill, or another illness. She had been bedridden for several days before her cousin Robb's wedding and had only just recovered in time to greet her mother when she arrived with cousin Edric. She had always been frail, that was what the maesters called it, she feel ill easily, she caught colds easily, it was quite a pain if she was honest and it often led, she knew to some whispering by the servants and helpers when they thought she could not hear them. But Jeyne had heard most of what the whispers said, that it would be better if she simply went off and died, went to sleep and never woke up again, that if that were to happen it would make life so much easier for her family.

Jeyne had never truly heard the whispers, she doubted whether there had been any whispers, when she had lived in Starfall, no the helpers there were too loyal to her uncle Allem and her and Jon's mother, and still remembered Princess Elia to make any comment about their lady's daughter's ill health. Winterfell though, Winterfell was different. She had never truly fit in, in the north, and it was not for lack of trying. She got on well with her cousins, but the cold weather just seemed to disagree with her and more often than not she found herself bed ridden with some illness or the other. She had been eight and newly arrived to Winterfell when she had heard some of the maids whispering about her ill health, they had said some very nasty things about her, and that had made her run to her room and cry her eyes out. She had not come out of her room for hours and eventually it had taken both her brother Jon and her sworn sword Arthur to coerce her out of her room.

She had later spoken to Uncle Ned about it, and he had told her that should she hear anything like that again, she was to come and tell him straight away and he would deal with it. Of course she had come to him once to tell him, but as she had gotten older, though the whispers still followed her around, she simply developed a thick skin and ignored what the whispers said. _Let them whisper _was what she often thought, the whisperers simply had nothing better to occupy their time with, and really she felt sorry for them. Of course Robb and Jon did not seem to share her attitude toward the whispers- Jon more so than Robb- and she knew there had been times where they had got into fights with some of the local stable boys or other boys about comments they had made about her.

But that was all in the past now. Her mother was here, and she knew that she would finally get to return home back to Starfall. She knew that she would miss her cousins but she would keep in contact with them through letters. The only problem was that Jon wished to join the Night's Watch. When he had told her, she had nodded and accepted his reasons, but internally she had felt like crying, Jon was her brother, they had grown up together, they done pretty much everything together, she did not know what she would do without him, and so she had devised a plan to convince Jon to change his mind. She had worked with Robb and his wife Alys, and then when her mother had come she had told her about her plan, and now days before the king was to come to Winterfell, she was about put her plan in motion.

She heard a knock on the door, and from the way Sandy ran and began scratching at the door she knew that it would be her mother, she went and opened the door. Lady Ashara, Jon and Jeyne's mother had been a beauty when she had been younger, with dark hair and haunting violet eyes she had captured the attention of many men, even now older as she was, she still caused heads to turn, many marriage proposals Jeyne knew had come to Starfall asking for her mother's hand, but Lady Ashara had turned each and every one of them down, why Jeyne knew not, but she was glad, she did not wish to have to share her mother with anyone other than Jon. Robb and Alys soon entered her room as well, Greywind padding in and instantly beginning to play with Sandy, all they needed to do now was wait.

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before they heard footsteps approaching her room, and she could tell that it was Jon and so she went and opened the door before he had even had a chance to knock. Ghost bounded in and began playing with Sandy and Greywind, Jon walked into her room looking confused when he saw their mother and Robb and Alys in the room.

"You wanted to see me Jeyne?" Jon asked his confusion evident.

"Yes, well actually we all wanted to see you. We've got something we want to speak to you about." Jeyne replied.

"Okay..." Jon said hesitantly.

Jeyne swallowed nervously and then began. "I know you want to join the Night's Watch Jon, but have you thought about other places for you to go to, other things for you to do?"

She saw Jon begin to reply, his mouth tightening as it often did when he became angry. Jeyne went on, "I know this might be selfish of me Jon. But I don't want you to go to the Wall. We've always been there for each other growing up and I, I don't know, I'd feel lost without you beside me. Who's going to be there to make me laugh when I fall ill, who's going to sing to me at night?"

"Jeyne, I..." Jon began, but Robb interrupted him.

"Jon, you know you can always stay in Winterfell for a bit longer, you don't have to go to the Wall or even back south for a little while. You've still got time coz."

Alys elaborated, "Besides I'm going to need some help keeping Robb in line, if King Robert does decided to take your father down south with him." She smiled at that, and Jeyne could have kissed her.

Jon still looked hesitant and vaguely bemused; he turned to look at their mother to see what she had to say. "I know you wish to join the Night's Watch Jon, but surely you can do that in a few years time. The Wall has stood for eight thousand years, and will continue to stand. Experience a bit more of life Jon, come back home see Starfall, see Allyria before she goes off and marries Lord Beric. Meet Princess Arianne and the Sand Snakes one more time, and then if you still want to take the black."

Jeyne knew they had nearly convinced Jon to change his mind, but then she saw the way his shoulders straightened and the way he stood taller, and she knew they had lost. Jon was decided. "I know that you all want what is best for me, and I thank you for that. But for once in my life I just want to do something because I want to do it, not because I've been told to do it. There is honour in serving in the Night's Watch; a man can rise high in the Watch no matter his name or station of birth. I think that I can fulfil myself in the Watch, and besides," he said a wry smile coming onto his face then. "Black always has been my colour."

They all laughed at that, but Jeyne could not help the feeling of sadness that began to engulf her. Jon- her brother, her companion- would be leaving Winterfell, but he would not be heading south with her and their mother, no he would be heading north to the Wall. As if sensing her distress Sandy began to whine. Before anyone else could say anything though, there was a knock on the door and one of the servants poked, their head round the door to inform them that their presence was required down in the courtyard for the King's Party had been spotted on the horizon.

Robb and Alys bid them farewell and headed out of the room toward the courtyard Greywind on their heels. Leaving Jeyne, Jon and their mother in the room. Lady Ashara looked at Jon and quietly asked him, "Are you sure this is what you wish to do Jon?"

Jeyne watched as her brother nodded, she heard her mother sigh then and say "Very well, I will not force you to change your mind, but know that if you ever do change your mind Starfall will wait for you. Now come, let us greet the baby killing king and his whore of a queen."

"Will you be okay mother? Greeting King Robert and Queen Cersei?" Jeyne asked, both she and Jon knew their mother had a very low opinion of Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters because of what they had done to her friend Princess Elia and her children Rhaenys and Aegon.

Jeyne heard her mother give a bitter laugh. "Yes sweetling I will be fine. With you and Jon here, I have no cause for complaint. So long as I don't have to look to long the royals I shall be fine." She smiled then and then Jeyne, Jon and their mother walked down to the courtyard arm in arm to wait for the royal party.

Because of their mother's presence Jeyne knew that she and Jon would be standing in the front line with their cousins and their uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn, otherwise they would likely be standing with Theon Greyjoy- Jeyne shuddered at the very thought of it, there was something about Theon that creeped her out- she stood next to her mother and her brother as they waited for the King's party to ride through the gates.

They waited for a long moment and then the royal party burst through the gates of Winterfell in a flurry of gold, silver and crimson, Lannister crimson. Jeyne spotted the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister wearing golden armour, she briefly wondered if it was the same armour he had worn when he had killed the king he had been sworn to protect, next came a man with a face so burned it was horrible to look upon, and beside him rode a boy who could only be the crown prince, he had golden Lannister hair it curled down to his shoulders and he wore an expression of absolute disdain, Jeyne already felt the hate pooling in her gut at the sight of him, and knew from the way Jon tensed beside her that he felt the same, she reached and grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

Next came a big fat man, with long black hair and a thick black beard to hide his many chins and loose skin, he vaulted of off his warhorse and strode toward Uncle Ned and soon had him in a bone crushing hug. "Ned!" she heard the man exclaim, belatedly realising that this man was the King, Robert Baratheon. Her uncle's oldest friend. "You have not changed at all."

"Your Grace," Jeyne heard her uncle say in his lord's voice. "Winterfell is yours."

Jeyne then heard the king say "Take me down to your crypts Ned. I would pay my respects." Just as his queen, the Lannister woman dismounted and walked toward him and her uncle, she tried to voice her protests about the long journey, but the king ignored her and merely gestured for her uncle Ned to lead the way.

Once they had disappeared out of sight, it had fallen to her aunt Catelyn to introduce the Queen to the rest of them, when Queen Cersei got to herself, her mother and Jon she gave the three of them a rather cold look before turning her face up at them in a dismissive manner and walking on. As the guests were shown to their accommodations, Jeyne heard Jon whisper in her ear, loud enough only for their mother to hear. "Well that certainly was disappointing. And the Queen seems full of herself." Jeyne had to hide her smile behind her hand and she knew her mother was doing the same. It truly had not been what she was expecting.

* * *

**Eddard**

_They went down to the crypt together, Ned and the king he scarcely recognized. The winding stone steps were narrow. Ned went first with the lantern. "I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell," Robert complained as they descended. "In the south, the way they talk about my seven kingdoms, a man forgets that your part is as big as the other six combined."_

_"I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?"_

_Robert snorted. "Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I've never seen such a vast emptiness. Where are all your people?"_

_"Likely they were too shy to come out," Ned jested. He could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth. "Kings are a rare sight in the north."_

_Robert snorted. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!" The king put one hand on the wall to steady himself as they descended._

_"Late summer snows are common enough," Ned said. "I hope they did not trouble you. They are usually mild."_

_"The Others take your mild snows," Robert swore. "What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think."_

_"The winters are hard," Ned admitted. "But the Starks will endure. We always have."_

_"You need to come south," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. In Highgarden, there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see. The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth. You will see, I brought you some. Even at Storm's End, with that good wind off the bay, the days are so hot you can barely move. And you ought to see the towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it's too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver and cotton if not but it's all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked." The king laughed happily._

_Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. That was not a charge anyone could lay at the door of Eddard Stark. Yet Ned could not help but notice that those pleasures were taking a toll on the king. Robert was breathing heavily by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, his face red in the lantern light as they stepped out into the darkness of the crypt._

_He swept the lantern in a wide semicircle. Shadows moved and lurched. Flickering light touched the stones underfoot and brushed against a long procession of granite pillars that marched ahead, two by two in the dark. Between the pillars, the dead sat on their stone thrones against the walls, backs against the sepulchres that contained their mortal remains. He led Robert past the dead of House Stark, past Lords of Winterfell, their likeness carved into the stone tombs that encased them, their swords gripped in an iron grip over their laps and direwolves of their house curled at their feet. He stopped when he reached the place where his sister's statue stood, a garland of pale blue roses were tucked at her feet, Ned had placed them there when he had last visited a few days prior to the King's arrival._

_They stood in a contemplative silence for a long moment before Robert began speaking about times past, reminiscing about times that had been and things that should have happened. Most of all though his old friend spoke of Lyanna, and Rhaegar. He spoke lovingly of Lyanna and venom dripped from him as he spoke of Prince Rhaegar. Ned did not wish to think too long on that topic for he knew that the product of their union was in the hall above them, he also knew that buried deep down with Lyanna's bones was the wedding cloak that she had been given by the Prince, a cloak of Targaryen black with the red three headed dragon on it. _

_Once Robert had finished reminiscing they stood in silence once more for a long time, Ned thought briefly that Robert may have fallen asleep so quite he was, but then he broke the silence and spoke once more, but in a quieter voice. "So Ned, what is it like having the Lady Ashara in Winterfell?"_

_Ned turned to face his friend keeping his expression blank. "What do you mean Robert?"_

_Robert chuckled. "Oh come now Ned, I know you fancied her back when we were boys. Tell me is she still as beautiful as she was at Harrenhal? Have you tried bringing her to yours and Catelyn's bed? I hear Dornishwomen are more than willing to try that sort of thing."_

_Ned swallowed, he was horrified by what his friend was suggesting, he had slept with Ashara once, at Harrenhal and their daughter believed that his brother Brandon was her father, to better protect Jon, the lie still rankled him all these years later, knowing that he could never hear Jeyne call him father, as Sansa and Arya did, but of course Robert could not know that. So instead he merely replied. "She is beautiful still yes. Any fool could see that. But no I have not asked her to mine and Catelyn's bed, nor will I. I love Catelyn Robert, I love her with all my heart, and I will do nothing to make her uncomfortable."_

_Robert merely grunted. "Very well then, I might just have to try for myself and see," his booming laughter ran throughout the crypts, Ned even smiled though he knew if Robert tried anything with Ashara he was likely to lose a limb, or two. Robert continued "You must have wondered why I finally came north to Winterfell after so long."_

_Ned had his suspicions but he said nothing instead he waited for Robert to continue speaking. "Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King."_

_Ned dropped to one knee. The offer did not surprise him; what other reason could Robert have had for coming so far? The hand of the king was the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. He spoke with the king's voice, commanded the king's armies, and drafted the king's laws. At times he even sat upon the Iron Throne to dispense the king's justice, when the king was absent, sick or otherwise indisposed. Robert was offering him a responsibility as large as the realm itself. It was the last thing in the world he wanted._

_"Your Grace, I am not worthy of the honour."_

_Robert groaned with good humoured impatience. "If I wanted to honour you, I'd let you retire. I'm planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." He slapped his gut and grinned._

_Then his old friend sprung something that he truly had not been expecting. "We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and Your Sansa shall join our houses as Lyanna and I might once have done."_

_"Sansa is only eleven."_

_Robert waved an impatient hand. "Old enough for betrothal. The marriage can wait a few years. Now stand up and say yes curse you."_

_"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Your Grace." Ned answered. He hesitated. "These honours are all so unexpected. May I have some time to consider? I need to tell my wife..."_

_"Yes, yes, of course, tell Catelyn, sleep on it if you must. Just don't keep me waiting too long. I am not the most patient of men."_

_They left the crypts then, Ned's head still reeling from all that had been said. He could not truly enjoy the feast that was held later that day as a result. His mind was still reeling from everything Robert had asked of him and told him. He needed time to think it all through; he needed time to tell Catelyn, he wanted to give Robert a good reason as to why he did not wish to go south. No Stark had ever gone south and lived to tell the tale, his father had gone south and died so too had Brandon. Lyanna had died in Dorne. No he did not wish to go south to the Viper's nest they called a capital especially not with his girls there no._

_He had thought that Catelyn would agree with him, but she urged him to go, saying how it would ensure that their family remained safe and secure. She argued that Robert the king was not the same man as the Robert he had known as a boy, nor even the same man he had known during the rebellion. She argued that kingship would have changed Robert, and that it did no good to reject a king's demand. He knew deep down that she was right, she was always right. That did not make it any easier, he still wished to stay in the north where he belonged, where all Starks belonged but then, Sansa would marry Joffrey, and he had seen something dark in the boy that unnerved him, something he did not like the look of, he would need to be there to protect Sansa, from those viper's in the court. _

_Once Catelyn read the letter her sister Lysa had sent her, in which she blamed the Lannisters- most specifically the Queen- for the death of her lord husband, Catelyn insisted that he had to go south to bring Jon Arryn's killers to justice, something Maester Luwin also said would be wise to do. Catelyn argued that Robert would listen to him if he brought enough evidence to convict the king, she said she had friends in King's Landing who could help him in his inquiries. Reluctantly he agreed with Catelyn, and the next day told Robert of his acceptance of the Handship._

_In typical Robert fashion, they had to thrown another grand feast to celebrate, both his acceptance of the handship and Sansa and Joffrey's betrothal. The Prince Ned noticed seemed to be on his best behaviour during the feast, he was very charming toward Sansa and even Jeyne, though Ned saw the hateful looks he shot Robb and Jon, and he saw the way Jon's mouth tightened whenever he looked at Joffrey, something bad was brewing between those two and he would need to stop it before it could blow out of control._

_Later as the feast began to unwind, the children were in bed, Catelyn had retired for the night, Robert was fiddling with some serving wench and the Queen and her brother were nowhere to be seen, Ned found himself walking Ashara back to her room. He had not spent any time alone with Ashara since she had been in Winterfell, making perfectly sure that whenever he was forced to be in her company there were plenty of people in the room. He loved Catelyn with all his heart and being, but there was some sort of pull Ashara had over him that he feared._

_"So, your girl is to be wed to the crown prince." He heard Ashara say._

_"Yes, a good match. Perfect even. Sansa is delighted." Ned replied._

_He heard Ashara snort. "Yes, well you might wish to caution her against expecting a fairy tale. Especially from royalty."_

_"Ashara..."he began but she interrupted him._

_"It is true you know Ned. When Elia found out she was to marry Rhaegar, she was giddy with delight. She was so happy not even her frailties could keep her bedridden for long. And then she learnt that life was not a fairy tale, and Rhaegar broke his vows." Ashara spoke coldly._

_Ned felt himself tense then. He said nothing but as Ashara broke away from him and moved toward her room she stopped and turned round, and said "Just so you know, Jon does not like the Prince, anymore than Oberyn liked Rhaegar. Keep an eye on him something will happen soon if you don't."_

_With that she walked inside and closer the door, leaving him feeling perplexed._

* * *

**Jon**

Jon watched Bran and Prince Tommem practice their sword fighting with wooden swords, and cheered with Robb and Theon as Bran managed to hit Prince Tommem again and again, until he eventually managed to knock him to the ground. Jon was not sure what to make of the royal family. King Robert had been a huge disappointment to him, he had grown up listening to his uncle's tales of a strong, brave man who had fought a war for his aunt Lyanna. In his head he had always pictured Robert Baratheon as a tall man, who was strong and built like an aurochs, the man he had seen was a fat old man, who seemed more happy drinking and wenching than doing anything else. The Queen was beautiful, but cold. Not at all like Jon's own mother, who possessed warmth that the Queen seemed to lack, had even aunt Catelyn agreed with that assessment when Jon had spoke with her and his mother the other day. Prince Joffrey was a prick. Robb, Theon even Jeyne agreed.

The crown prince, thought himself above everything and everyone in Winterfell and Jon did not like him one bit. Ever since his betrothal to Jon's cousin Sansa had been announced the prince had only grown cockier, strutting around Winterfell like he owned the place and he was arrogant, so very, very arrogant. Though of course whenever Sansa was present he never failed to act chivalrously and kindly, so of course Sansa thought herself in love with him, it was so infuriating. Though of course when he had brought this up with his mother and Jeyne they had both laughed and claimed that he was jealous, which was ridiculous why would he be jealous of some spoiled twelve year old, when he was going to join the Watch?

Jon listened as Robb and Theon, and Alys and Jeyne cheered Bran on as he knocked Prince Tommem to the ground once more. Robb and Alys, Jon thought made a very good couple. Alys was kind and smart, and she treated Jeyne like a proper person, not like some weakling, which of course made Jon like her that much more. There were many things he could take, like the fact that he was a bastard, but one thing he could not tolerate was people treating Jeyne differently or even making fun of her because of her health. In fact he had gotten into trouble more than once because he had fought whoever had dared insult his sister.

Jon felt something was about to go horribly wrong when Prince Joffrey moved himself into the sunlight he sounded bored. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Theon gave a bark of laughter. "You are children."

"Robb may be a child," Joffrey said. "I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff." Robb said. "Are you afraid?"

Prince Joffrey looked at him. "Oh terrified," he said. "You're so much older." Some of the Lannister men laughed.

Jon groaned inwardly, Robb was being baited.

Ser Rodrik tugged thoughtfully at his white whiskers. "What are you suggesting?" He asked the prince.

"live steel."

"Done," said Robb. "You'll be sorry."

The master at arms put a hand on Robb's shoulder to quiet him. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permits you tourney swords with blunted edges."

Joffrey sneered at that and said. "Does Winterfell breed cowards or is it just you Robb? Why hide behind tourney swords if not because you are a coward."

Jon saw Robb bristle and was thankful that Alys laid a hand on his arm to keep him still, otherwise he knew not what Robb would do.

He did not expect Jeyne to speak then. "That is not very gallant of you, Your Grace. Mocking a man who will soon be your ally, that is not smart at all, especially when you are a guest here."

Joffrey turned his attention to Jeyne and sneered at her, his voice was laced with venom when he spoke next. "Do you threaten me Sand? A bastard girl, who is so frail it would be better if she was to fall asleep and never wake again. You would seek to give advice to me?"

Jon tensed, Jeyne meanwhile merely said. "I did not mean to cause offence Your Grace. Forgive me if I did. I merely thought it would be wise to ask you not to offend Winterfell and the Starks when you are a guest here."

Joffrey spat venom then. "Oh so you thought to counsel me did you? Well let me counsel you. Next time I want your advice- which will be never- I will ask it of you. In fact come to think of it you could help me with something now."

Jeyne looked at Joffrey inquisitively, "Oh and what might that be Your Grace?"

Jon saw Joffrey turn his head for a moment looking at the assortment of men and squires gathered around him, before he turned back to face Jeyne a smirk upon his face. "I hear your mother was a slut when she was younger. Perhaps you have inherited some of her promiscuity. I want you to come to my chambers tonight and suck my cock, that is if your frail health does not kill you."

Some of the men next to Joffrey laughed nervously, Joffrey smirked then, Jeyne remained silent as did Robb, Theon, Alys and Ser Rodrik. Jon though felt himself go black with rage, how dare this insolent little shit insult his mother and his sister. Before he knew what he was doing he had moved from where he had been standing and was striding toward Joffrey. He vaguely heard someone shouting his name, it could have been Jeyne or Robb it made no difference, he advanced upon Joffrey raised his right hand curled it into a fist and punched Joffrey in the face once, twice, thrice, four times, he punched him a total of ten times before he was eventually hauled off of the crown prince.

By the time he was done, Joffrey had a bloody lip and a swollen eye. Jon was fuming he was straining against Theon and Ser Rodrik wanting to cause Joffrey more harm. Then he felt Jeyne's hand on his cheek, and then she was in front of him her violet eyes filled with concern. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Jon, Jon sweetling its okay. Everything's fine Jon. its okay come back to me Jon, come back to me." And slowly Jon felt his breathing return to normal, and then he felt Theon and Ser Rodrik release him and he fell into Jeyne's arms holding her tightly and sobbing.

Later, once he had calmed down he was brought before his uncle, his aunt and his mother and the king. Lord Eddard looked solemn, in fact they all looked solemn and grim, and for a moment Jon feared that he would have to be executed.

His uncle spoke first, with his Lord's voice. "Jon, do you know why you have been brought here?"

Jon nodded. "Yes uncle."

King Robert sighed then and Jon turned to look at the king. Robert had a sad look in his eyes when he spoke. "Very well then. Joffrey says that you attacked him unprovoked. Is that true?"

Jon bristled with anger. "No your grace it is not. Prince Joffrey insulted my sister and my lady mother. He said that my lady mother was a whore and he insulted Jeyne's health. I admit that perhaps I went too far, but something had to be done. I won't let anyone insult my mother or my sister, not for as long as I live."

He heard his mother and aunt Catelyn sob, his uncle Ned and the King both sighed. "Very well then, Ned?" He saw his uncle step forward then and look at the king. "See that your nephew is kept indoors for the rest of our stay here I don't want Joff or Cersei kicking up a fuss."

"Yes Your Grace."

And so it was that Jon was kept to his room, unable to leave unless it was for dinner or to use the toilet. Ghost was his companion and occasionally his mother or Jeyne would come and visit him, but the rest of the family did not, or could not from what Jeyne told him because they had to pretend to be making amends with the Baratheon's. Jon did not regret what he had done, he was sorry though that his uncle had to pay because Joffrey was a little cry baby. He was in his room when Bran fell, and then the castle went into mourning.

* * *

**Catelyn.**

_Ned and the girls and the royal party and Lady Ashara and Jeyne and Jon had been gone for eight days now. Ned and the girls for King's Landing, Ashara and Jeyne for Starfall and Jon, her nephew her strong nephew who had beaten the Prince when he had dared insult Jeyne had gone north to the wall. Cersei had been furious when she had found out what had happened to her son and had demanded that Jon be severly punished and so it had been agreed with Jon's consent that he be sent to the Wall with Benjen, that Jon had wanted to go to the Wall in the first place was not mentioned to the Royals. Catelyn was only glad that the royals had left, she did not like them anymore than Ned did, and yet he rode south with them even though Bran lay in his bed, dead to the world, asleep for all eight days Jon had alerted them to his fall from the Broken Tower and they had all deliberated how he could have fallen. Her little boy never fell, everyone in Winterfell knew that. She thought back to Lysa's letter and wondered if perhaps Bran had seen something he was not supposed to see._

_Robb had come to her and begged her to eat, to move from her vigil beside Bran's bedside. But she could not do it, not now, no she couldn't leave him here alone, not when he could need her at any moment. She knew she was being unfair to Robb, she knew that some must think her mad. But she could not help it, her baby Bran was hurt and might die, and she could not leave his side, not even for a moment. Robb had been about to speak with her again to try and coerce her into moving when he had seen the library tower on fire and had rushed to put the fire out. She said a silent prayer to the seven faces of god as she went to the window. Across the bailey, long tongues of flame shot from the windows of the library. She watched the smoke rise into the sky and thought sadly of all the books the Starks had gathered over the centuries. Then she closed the shutters._

_When she turned away from the window, the man was in the room with her._

_"You weren't supposed to be here." He muttered sourly. "No one was supposed to be here."_

_He was a small dirty man in filthy brown clothing and he stank of horses. Catelyn knew all the men who worked in their stables and he was none of them. He was gaunt, with limp blond hair and pale eyes deep sunk in a bony face and there was a dagger in his hand. Catelyn looked at the knife then at Bran. "No," she said. The word stuck in her throat, the merest whisper._

_He must have heard her. "It's a mercy," he said. "He's dead already."_

_"No," Catelyn said louder now as she found her voice again. She spun back toward the window to scream for help but the man moved faster than she would have believed. One hand clamped down over her mouth and yanked her head, the other brought the dagger up to her windpipe. The stench of him was overwhelming. She reached up with both hands and grabbed the blade with all her strength, pulling it away from her throat. She heard him cursing into her ear. Her fingers were slippery with blood, but she would not let go of the dagger. The hand over her mouth clenched more tightly, shutting off her air. Catelyn twisted her head to the side and managed to get a piece of his flesh between her teeth. She bit down hard into his palm. The man grunted in pain. She ground her teeth together and tore at him and all of a sudden he let go. The taste of his blood filled her mouth. She sucked in air and screamed, and he grabbed her hair and pulled her away from him and she stumbled and went down, and then he was standing over her breathing hard, shaking._

_Catelyn saw the shadow slip through the open door behind him. There was a low rumble, less than a snarl, the merest whisper of a threat but he must have heard something because he started to turn just as the wolf- Bran's wolf- made its leap. They went down together half sprawled over Catelyn where she'd fallen. The wolf ripped the man's jaw open and then tore into his throat, leaving him no time to scream. The blood splattered all over the floor and some of it covered Catelyn. That was how they found her. Sat against Bran's bed, with his direwolf standing over the assassins body, his muzzle bloody. _

_Later once Maester Luwin had seen to her wounds, she spoke with Robb, and they discussed the fire and the attacker. It seemed that the assassin had been a part of King Robert's entourage that had ridden to Winterfell and had likely been sleeping in the stables waiting for the right moment to strike, he had set the fire as a diversion, hoping that all of the men and even Catelyn would be too busy trying to put the fire out, that they would leave Bran unguarded. Had it not been for his direwolf, she and her son would have been dead now._

_Once more guards had been posted in front of Bran and her room as well as Rickon's and Robb and Alys's she called for a meeting in the godswood in front of the heart tree. And it was there that she told her son, his wife, and Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin as well as Theon Greyjoy about her suspicions about who had pushed Bran and why, as well as about her sister's letter accusing the Lannister's for Jon Arryn's death. After much discussion it was decided that she would travel to King's Landing she and Ser Rodrik would take a ship from White Harbour and get to King's Landing before Ned and the Lannisters and she would present her findings to Ned._

_Unbeknownst to the party, hidden behind one of the trees in the godswood was a auburn haired wench who had been sent north from King's Landing. She quickly made her way back to her lodgings to let her master know the news of an imminent arrival. _


	4. Demon Eyes

**Robb**

Winterfell had become much quieter since father, the girls, and Jon and Jeyne had left. There was less hustle and bustle about his home, it was almost eerily quiet, and then someone had sent an assassin to try and kill Bran, and mother had gone to King's Landing to tell father about the attack and bring the people behind the attack to justice. Despite this there was much work that still needed to be done around Winterfell, and as such Robb found that he spent most of his waking hours talking with the men of the castle seeing to restoration work of the library tower, and taking daily reports from the guards and Theon about the security in the castle, he did not wish for there to be anymore unsuspecting attacks on himself or his family.

All of this work often meant that he had very little time to actually spend with either his wife or his baby brother Rickon. As such though he was very grateful for Alys and her understanding, she spent most of her day with Rickon making sure that he went to his lessons and generally stayed out of trouble. Of course, when they both had some spare time in the evenings once dinner had been had and Rickon had been put to bed, they spent time with each other and coupled. It was quite a nice experience and Robb could now fully understand why Theon would often speak about it so often. As of yet though their coupling had yet to produce a child, but Robb was not too concerned about that for they had plenty of time, and with father still alive, they would not need to have children for some time. No Robb liked to spend the time he had with his wife, merely enjoying her body simply because he could and because he liked her, a lot. He had known Alys since they were six when she had come with her father when Lord Karstark had come visiting for "official business" she had since told him that he had come there hoping to get a betrothal between her and him. Of course that had finally happened some years later when he had turned ten and three.

Since then she had spent more time visiting Winterfell and he had gotten to know her. His wife was a very good looking, and very energetic. She reminded him of a slightly older version of Arya, albeit a much more prettier and of course nicer version of Arya, and she was of course not his sister. "What are you day dreaming about husband?" he heard his wife ask, amusement evident in her tone.

Robb grinned wolfishly and said. "Why you of course wife, come here." And with that he pulled her flush against him, and titled her head up and kissed her full on the mouth. He did not care that they were standing in the middle of the hall and that someone could see them, it seemed neither did his wife for she responded eagerly to his kiss and when he put his tongue into her mouth she groaned appreciatively, and then their tongues were locked together and he groaned into her mouth. Alys was the one to break the kiss, pulling away and grinning slyly when he groaned in protest.

"Now, now Robb. We can't have your reputation sullied now can we? Lords of Winterfell are meant to be grim and solemn, it would be bad for your image if people knew that Lords of Winterfell actually had some feelings." She laughed.

Robb grinned again, but also blushed and was about to respond when Maester Luwin came approaching from Bran's room. The maester was breathing heavily, and he took a moment to stop and collect his breath. Then he spoke. "My lord, I came as soon as I could. I think you might want to come to Lord Brandon's room."

He felt his chest tighten then, Alys came and squeezed his hand reassuringly and asked. "What's happened? Is Bran okay?"

Maester Luwin nodded and said. "He has woken, my lord, my lady."

Robb looked at Alys and smiled at her. Then he looked at Maester Luwin and told him to lead the way. He and Alys followed Luwin to Bran's room, where Old Nan was sitting fast asleep in a rocking chair beside the bed. Bran was lying propped up with his head against a pillow, his direwolf lying stretched out across the foot of his bed. Robb looked at Bran and smiled. "Bran! How are you feeling?"

Bran looked like he wanted to cry. "I can't feel my legs Robb. Why can't I feel my legs?"

Robb sighed, Alys squeezed his hand reassuringly and he spoke. "You fell Bran, you fell from the broken tower."

Bran looked indignant as Robb suspected he might. "I didn't fall! I never fall!"

Robb sighed again and this time said in a more comforting tone. "You did Bran, but it's not your fault."

Then Bran looked up from where he was on the bed. Robb turned to see Maester Luwin walking into the room with Rickon, who immediately bounded up and hugged Bran, Shaggydog nipped playfully and Bran's as yet unnamed direwolf. Bran looked at Robb again and asked in a small voice. "Where's mother Robb? I remember her being here, I heard her speak to me. I thought she would be here?"

Robb felt his heart tighten, Bran sounded so scared and frightened. "Mother was here Bran. She stayed beside your bed for as long as she could. But she had to go and see father about something. She'll be home soon." He couldn't tell his brother the truth as to why mother had gone south. Not yet atleast, not until Bran was better, not until he felt better, of that much he was certain of.

"Oh," Bran said and he sounded so small and tired.

"We'll be back later, shall I leave you here with Nan and Rickon?" Robb asked.

Bran nodded and then said something in such a quiet voice, that Robb wasn't sure what he had said and so he asked his little brother, and Bran responded. "Summer, my direwolf is called Summer."

Robb nodded then walked out of the room with Alys, to go and think about other things. As the days passed and turned into weeks, and still mother did not come back to Winterfell, Robb began to worry but Alys said that perhaps she was simply spending time with Sansa and Arya as well, and so Robb did not think too long and what her continued absence might mean. Bran continued to improve, he was no longer so frail as he had been when he first woke up, he no longer slept for most of the day, and was able to travel about the castle on Hodor's back, he seemed to be in a better mood because of it, though Robb knew that Bran still felt sad that he could no longer walk nor climb. Bran could not remember much of what had happened before he had fallen, he remembered climbing the broken tower, but he had no memory after that, not until he had woken up in his bed.

Robb had asked him twice, and then after the second time had gone to Maester Luwin and asked him his thoughts on the matter. The maester said that it was not unusual for a person who had experienced a shock or a traumatic even to have memory lapses, and Bran's fall certainly classed as a traumatic experience and so Robb let it slide, determined to wait for mother to come back from King's Landing until he asked any more questions, if all went according to plan mother would come back with the answers and they would not have to worry about it anymore. Just to make absolutely sure though, Robb often went to the broken tower with Alys and Theon to see if there could be any clues as to whom or what might have caused Bran's fall.

Robb had spent many a time during his own childhood hiding and playing in the Broken Tower with Jon and Theon, and occasionally Jeyne when her health permitted it. It was a good place to hide, for no one really ever came there. As they looked around the edges of the tower where Jon had found Bran, they saw nothing of note, though Greywind did begin to whine softly the further up the tower they got. Until they were at the top of the tower, in a place that Robb knew had once been a solar, and there hidden amongst the rubble of the tower they found a single golden curl.

A few days after they had found the golden curl, Bran told him that Sansa's direwolf Lady had been killed, when asked how he knew this, Bran simply said that Summer knew that his sister was no longer there, and it seemed Greywind and Shaggydog knew this as well for they howled for hours, and then later that night a raven came from their father on the Kingsroad to tell them that there had been an incident on the Kingsroad involving Sansa, Arya, a butcher's boy and Prince Joffrey, and that Lady, Sansa's direwolf had been executed. Robb had the suspicion that there was something more to this story, and he had a sneaking feeling that it had more to do with Joffrey being a prick than his father let on. He still remembered how Joffrey had looked down upon Winterfell and the north, the whole time he had been here, and he also remembered how the prince had insulted Jon and Jeyne's mother as well as Jeyne, and he remembered how Jon had beaten the prince bloody, and then because the prince had run sobbing to his mother, Jon had been forced to go to the Wall with Uncle Benjen, when Robb had been convinced Jon would either stay in Winterfell or go back south with Aunt Ashara and Jeyne.

Then Tyrion Lannister came to Winterfell. Given what his mother had said, and the golden curl they had found in Winterfell, Robb thought that he could be excused for being suspicious of why the imp was in Winterfell, especially when he began asking Bran all sorts of questions. "My brother is not here for your questioning, Lannister." Robb said in his lord's voice.

The imp's eyes had quirked with amusement and he had then continued questioning Bran about his fall, and what he remembered about it, from the way he was asking his questions Robb got the feeling that perhaps the imp was blameless in the attack on Bran, and that perhaps he should bring his suspicions to him. A feeling that was further enforced when the imp presented a design for a saddle that would allow Bran to ride a horse comfortably once more. Robb tried to apologies for his earlier briskness by offering the imp a room in Winterfell, but the man declined and instead said that he would be spending the night in a brothel.

Once Lord Tyrion had left the great hall, Robb began speaking with Yoren the man who had come the Wall. He asked him about how Jon was getting on and how uncle Benjen was doing. Yoren's eyes quirked with amusement and something that might have been pride when he spoke of Jon. "Lord Sand eh. Aye Lord Sand is getting on just fine. He's made a few friends I believe, an aurochs, a pig and a bunch of halfwits. But aye he's a good lad, stubborn too and proud, but quiet as well. Aye he's getting on fine. Your uncle Benjen, I could not say. He went out on a ranging before I left; last I heard he hadn't returned."

Robb thanked Yoren and then once dinner was done for the night, helped escort Bran and Rickon to bed, and listened as Alys told them both a story to help them sleep and then as they entered their rooms Robb voiced his thoughts from earlier in the day. "I think I might tell Lord Tyrion about our suspicions, what do you think my lady?"

Alys looked up from the mirror where she was brushing her hair for bed and said. "I believe you should mention the golden curl, but nothing more. Let Lord Tyrion figure it out for himself. But it is up to you Robb."

Robb smiled at her then and walked over to her and pulled the brush from her and began brushing her hair himself. As he brushed, he heard his wife hum and then she said. "Robb, I have something that I want to tell you."

Robb ceased brushing his wife's hair and put the brush on the table, and then looked at her. "Go on Alys."

Alys gave him a nervous smile then and said. "I think I might be pregnant."

* * *

**Jon**

The wall was not like anything he had expected. He had thought that the Wall would be just like it had seemed in the stories Old Nan had told him and his sister and cousins when they were children. He realised now that he had wanted it to be like that, so that he could justify why he had left his sister and his mother behind. After he had punched Joffrey and been brought before the king, he had been confined to his room, but then he had been called before the king once more, except this time the Queen was there as was Joffrey, and the little blonde haired shit, had lied to his father and mother and told them how Jon had attacked him like a savage and that he had merely been having a polite conversation with Jeyne. Jon knew that neither his uncle nor the king believed what the prince was saying and yet because Queen Cersei was there, the king had to believe what Joffrey had said, and had told Jon that it was a grievous thing to assault the heir to the iron throne, and that in the days of the Targaryens one who struck a royal would lose the offending limb, but the King's mouth had quirked with anger as he said the name Targaryen and Jon had hoped briefly that he would get free, but then the king had said that whilst he was no barbarian, Jon would have to suffer the consequences of his actions and would have to take the black.

Jon agreed to take the black, though that was no longer what he had wanted to do. He knew how ill Jeyne was, he knew that he was needed in Starfall if not Winterfell. His mother needed him there, to help her look after Edric, Allyria and Jeyne. His family needed him, and yet here he was stuck in the far north, stuck with thieves and rapists and men without honour and cravens. Here he was at the place where he had thought he could make a name for himself, and here he was stuck until the end of his days, for though he had not yet taken his vows he knew that he could not flee from the Watch not now, not now that he was here. He had learnt many things from his time in Winterfell, and he knew that he could not shame his uncle, he would not do that, his name might be Sand but the blood of the Starks ran through his veins and if this was to be his fate, so be it. He would accept it and he would do what he could to make the best of it. He only hoped that he could have time to visit his mother and Jeyne and perhaps attend Allyria's wedding.

He had gotten along well with Lord Tyrion. A bastard and an imp, what a company they made. Jon had found that he liked the Imp best of the Lannister siblings, whereas the Queen and the Kingslayer seemed to be full of them and considered anyone else not of their family to be beneath them, Tyrion was a laugh. He traded japes easily and gave as good as he got. And he was one of the few people who had not seemed to find Jeyne a pitiful girl in the King's party, something that had greatly endeared him to Jon, for Jon had even heard the king say something about Jeyne's ill health, and he had been so tempted to skewer the king for saying that, how dare the man, the fat oaf, the child killer question the worth of his sister.

It had been Tyrion who had turned the boys, the new recruits from trying to kill Jon, into some of his best friends. Tyrion had opened Jon's eyes to the reality of their situation, whilst he may have been a bastard, he had been fortunate to grow up in Starfall and Winterfell where he had received some very good tuition in swordsmanship and weaponry, whereas these boys had had little to none, and had no one to teach them. And Tyrion had told him his mismatched eyes serious for once, "Let us be honest here Jon. Allister Thorne is not the best of teachers. Should the wildlings ever strike south in great force, these boys will be the first ones to die. It would do them some good to have a teacher who did not hate them as such." He had looked at Jon then, and it had seemed like his eyes were looking into the depths of Jon's soul. Jon had agreed to change his approach to and had soon taken to showing his fellow recruits: Pyp, Grenn, Dareon, Halder and the rest, the lessons he had been taught by Ser Rodrik and his sister's sworn sword Ser Arthur. That earnt him the scorn of Ser Thorne, but it had also earnt him the respect and friendship of those who had formerly been his enemies and foes.

The Sam had arrived. Big, fat and with so many chins he could have beaten King Robert with them, Samwell Tarly came from the Reach the eldest son of Randyll Tarly Lord of Horn Hill, he had taken the black to spare his father the embarrassment of having a craven for an heir. Try as he might, Jon just could not seem to get Sam to fight properly without blubbering like a baby. Initially his friends had wanted to have some fun with Sam, but one quick word from him and they had all taken to Sam and were now protecting him from Thorne's brutality. He dearly hoped that Sam would learn quick enough, that in this place filled with rapers and thieves and men with no honour, it would do no good to be a craven, that was a lesson Jon had learnt the hard way and something he intended to make sure that Sam never had to suffer.

Before Tyrion had left the wall for his journey back south, Jon had received a raven from Winterfell writ in Robb's hand that told of how Bran was awake. It also mentioned of how an assassin had tried to kill Bran whilst he was still unconscious, and how Bran's direwolf- which he was calling Summer- had saved him and aunt Catelyn. Jon had been deeply concerned by that, and his concerns were heightened even more when he saw that Robb wrote that they suspected that the Lannisters had had a part to play in Bran's fall and may haps even the attempt on his life. Jon had spoken with Tyrion the night before the man was due to leave for the south, he had not mentioned Robb's suspicions, only that he hoped that Tyrion could do what he could to make Bran's life easier, now that he was awake. He also asked him to make some of his own enquiries as to why Bran fell. Tyrion promised him that he would do just that and would find a way to tell Jon what he had found. When he watched Tyrion leave the next day, Jon had felt slightly more comfortable with himself. He knew Tyrion would stay true to his word, he could only hope nothing ill befell him.

That had left Jon on his lonesome with his new friends. For his uncle Benjen had left the day before Tyrion had, to go on a ranging north of the wall to discover what had become of Wymar Royce and the ranging party he had led north of the wall some months ago. His uncle had left some two weeks ago, and had yet to return. Jon was not too worried though, for he had spoken to old Maester Aemon about some of the rangings that had happened in the past, and the old maester had told him that it often took many moons for a ranging party to return from the north, for they had to make especially certain that nothing followed them when they returned. A system that had been started by the first Lord Commander that old Aemon had served under, one Lord Commander Dayne.

It was getting closer to the time when the new recruits- including Jon- would have to swear their vows, and Jon was determined to do it in front of the heart tree in the godswood north of the wall. He might have been born in Dorne, but he felt more of a connection with the old gods, the ones he felt had true power, at least in the north. The Old Bear had read out where the recruits would be going, and Jon had been desperately hoping that he would become a ranger like his uncle Benjen, and so had been deeply disappointed when the Old Bear read out his name for the stewards. And then when he was told by old Maester Aemon that he would be the Old Bear's steward he had been even more disappointed. And then Sam had told him that meant that the Old Bear was grooming him for leadership, perhaps to be a future lord commander. Jon had looked at Sam then, at his friend's big smiling face and had felt like punching it, and punching it hard. He did not wish to be Lord Commander in the future, hell he didn't even want to be a man of the Night's Watch, the more he thought about it the more he was certain he wanted to be in Starfall with his mother and Jeyne. He missed them terribly, even more than he missed his cousins, though he did briefly wonder how Sansa and Arya were getting on in King's Landing, and whether or not Arya still had that little Bravo's blade he had give her.

Then the day came for him to swear his vows. He rode out with Sam, Grenn, Pyp and Halder and several of the senior men of the Night's Watch past the wall and to the nearby Godswood. He knelt before the heart tree and before instructed to say the vows, said a quick prayer to the old gods, to his father's gods, to his uncle's gods. _Please make me strong enough to accept this hand I have been given. Please give me the strength to do what is right._ The old Bowen Marsh told them to say their vows, and as the wind blew in something fierce and caused the branches of the heart tree to sway, their voices rang out as unison. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, and father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come."

Then when they had all said their words, Bowen Marsh spoke "You came here boys, rapers, thieves, and bastards. Rise now as men and brothers of the Night's Watch."

And so they did, they rose from their position next to the heart tree, Jon said a quick prayer and then their fellow brothers were there to congratulate them and welcome them officially to the brotherhood. As Jon shook hands and accepted congratulations, and even as he rode back to Castle Black he could not help the strange sense of foreboding that seemed to have recently have formed in his mind, as he had said his vows, he could have sworn he felt a chill creep up on him and he could have sworn he heard the wind whisper his name.

He dismissed the thoughts from his mind the minute he was back in Castle Black, and made his way to the Lord Commander's Tower and his own room. The Old Bear would likely have no need for him tonight. He fell asleep with the fire roaring in the hearth, and Ghost curled up next to him on the bed. When he awoke, the fire had died out and Ghost was at the door his teeth bared.

"What's wrong Ghost?" Jon asked, his eyes still groggy from sleep. Ghost just kept his teeth bared, and began pawing at the door. "What's wrong Ghost?" Jon asked again, Ghost kept pawing at the door, then turned to look at him and began whining. "Is there something outside boy?" Ghost turned back to the door and began nudging it with his head. Jon relented and opened the door, Ghost sped off down the hall. Jon called after him and raced after him, and found Ghost pawing at the Lord Commander's door.

He heard footsteps from the other side of the door. "Lord Commander? " Jon asked. There was no response. The footsteps seemed to be getting heavier, Jon called out once more, still no response, next to him Ghost whined louder and louder. Jon called out once more and when he got no response he put his whole body behind him as he shoved down the door. And what he saw scared him senseless. The dead black brother who had turned up outside the castle gates that morning, was walking around looking for the Lord Commander's room no doubt. Jon was so shocked he knew not what to do. Ghost however, it seemed did for he leapt into the air and Jon watched stunned as man and wolf went falling to the ground. Ghost ripped the thing's throat open, but all that did was annoy the thing more. It shoved Ghost off and staggered drunkenly toward Jon. Jon stood there frozen, watching the dead black brother advance toward him. Just as it was about to reach him, Ghost pounced on it from behind and brought it down.

Then Jon felt a cold hand grip him and turned to see the other dead black brother staring at him with ice blue eyes. Jon unfroze and shook the brother off and quickly drew his longsword, and began hacking and slashing at the creature but to no avail. Whenever he cut it, the creature simply kept moving toward him until it knocked the sword from his hand, and they fell to the floor wrestling each other. Jon feared he would be crushed under the sheer weight of the dead black brother- he had been a big man in life- close to him he heard Jon tearing into the other black brother, and out the corner of his eye he saw a lamp nearby that looked close to falling.

It took all his strength, but he managed to flip the dead black brother over his head and so that when he fell, the lamp fell onto him burning him instantly, and Jon watched as he staggered to his feet, as the dead black brother burnt and was reduced to ash. Ghost was still tearing into the other dead black brother nearby, but Jon saw the Old Bear standing in the doorway to his room still in a dressing gown a lamp in his hand, his eyes groggy. "What in the seven hells is going on?" the old bear asked, his voice laced with tired anger.

Before Jon could answer the dead black brother pushed Ghost off of him, and staggered drunkenly upward and toward the Old Bear. Jon tried to shout a warning but to no avail, it seemed his tongue had disappeared. Instead he lunged forward and took the lamp from the Old Bear's hand, and threw it at the advancing black brother. The dead brother caught fire, and Jon watched him burn and prayed that that would be enough, he looked down to see Ghost panting heavily beside him, and then the fire began to spread.

The next day, the Lord Commander's tower was a shadow of what it had been before, parts of it had been burnt by the fire that had killed the two wights. Jon's hand had been burnt during the final fire, as he had tried to help the Old Bear out of the room and out of the tower. They had succeeded, but Jon's hand had been as black as Shaggydog by the end of it, thankfully it was his left hand, so it was nothing too serious. And Maester Aemon had treated it and bandaged it and had said that with some luck and some time it would be fit to use once more.

The Lord Commander was housing himself in another part of Castle Black for the time being, and so Jon was also housed there. He had been called before the Old Bear this morning and as such had been attending to him for most of the day, and yet Jon could not help but think that there was something more the Old Bear wanted to say to him, what it was though he was not sure.

He was surprised when he opened the Lord Commander's door and found Maester Aemon standing in the doorway being helped by Sam. "Jon Sand?" Maester Aemon asked.

"Yes maester I'm here." Jon replied.

The maester smiled. "Good, help me into the room. The Lord Commander wished for me to come here."

Jon nodded and moved to grab Aemon's other hand and helped him walk and sit down in a chair by the fire. The Lord Commander entered the room at that moment. "Ah Aemon, you're here good. Sit Jon."

So Jon sat, in a chair next to Maester Aemon, Sam went to leave but Mormont bade him stay. Mormont coughed and then spoke. "You did well yesterday Jon. Quick thinking and reactions. Good work."

Jon blushed. "It was Ghost my lord, not me."

Mormont laughed. "Aye where is your direwolf?"

"Gone hunting." Jon replied.

"Ah mores' the shame. I had something I meant to give him. Anyway that can wait. I have something to give you." Jon watched as Mormont brought forth a sword in a sheath, and then passed it to Jon. "Unsheathe it Jon." Mormont said.

And so he did. He gasped when he looked at it. It was a longsword that much was clear, but it was not as big as Ice was, but it was bigger than Mormont's own sword Longclaw. It was coloured pure silver steel, with ripples of flame across it, and on its pommel was the head of a direwolf, a white one. "It's beautiful," Jon said in an awed tone.

"Good. I'm glad you like it Jon. It's yours." Mormont said.

Jon looked at the Old Bear confused. "But my lord," he began.

"But nothing," Mormont interrupted him. "You did the Night's Watch a great service last night, and this is your reward, take it. Aemon tell Jon the story of the sword."

Jon turned to Maester Aemon, as the maester took a deep breath and began to speak. "The sword you hold in your hand Jon, is called Winter's Fury. It once belonged to a former Lord Commander called Brynden. He gave the sword to your great grandfather's brother one Brandon Stark before he left for a ranging. The Lord Commander told him that he no longer had need of the sword and that it was for Brandon to do with as he pleased. Brandon Stark was honoured by the gift and so wielded the sword for many a year, until he died during a ranging some twenty years ago. The sword has been kept in Castle Black ever since."

"And you wish for me to have it?" Jon asked confused.

"Yes. It was once a Stark sword, and it is only right that a Stark should wield it once more."

Jon wanted to point out that he was not a Stark, that he was not even a Snow, he was a Sand. But looking at the expectant expression in Mormont's eyes and the hopeful one in Sam's he could do nothing more than simply nod and say, "Very well then. I'm honoured." And that was how he came to have his own Valyrian Steel sword.

* * *

**Eddard**

The journey to King's Landing had been long and tiring and not without incident. When Bran had fallen, he had begged Robert to delay his departure for a few days, but his friend- no the king- would not hear of it. And so Ned had had to leave Winterfell, and his wife and his sons without ever getting to say a proper goodbye to them. Catelyn had wept and wept when it had come time for him to go, she had begged him not to leave to say here in Winterfell with her and their sons, to tell Robert to go to the seven hells, and he had had to gently tell her he could not do that, he had to find whoever had killed Jon Arryn and bring them to justice, he had to help Robert run the realm and lessen Lannister influence. She had sniffed then and bade him a cold farewell, it still hurt to think about it.

Then there had been the incident in the Riverlands on the Kingsroad, with Arya, Joffrey, Sansa and the butcher's boy. Joffrey accused Arya and her direwolf of attacking him, and Arya said that Nymeria was simply defending her. They both gave counter stories, and Ned knew that Robert would be able to act against his heir in public, at least not with the Lannister woman present, and so he had asked Sansa to tell her side of the story. Ned had hoped that she might put her loyalty to her family before her feelings for Joffrey, but alas she was only a eleven year old girl, and she was scared too, and so she had spoken up for Joffrey much to Arya's discontent. The queen had ordered Lady executed, Ned had pleaded with Robert, such a measure was not necessary, Arya had already lost her direwolf, there was no need for Sansa to suffer, but Robert- the king- was so much different than Robert his friend. The boy he had grown up with would have never listened to Cersei Lannister, he would have been outraged at the injustice being heaped on Sansa, he would have refused to have Lady executed, but that Robert was not the same Robert that Robert had perhaps died when Lyanna had died. Robert allowed the execution to take place. Ned decided to do it himself, and Sansa he thought had not forgiven him for it, and that hurt too.

Throughout the rest of the journey to King's Landing his girls were not speaking to each other, Joffrey walked around with an arrogant swagger and the Queen seemed smug and happy with herself. The words Ashara had said to him before they had left Winterfell kept playing in his head- _There is something wrong with that boy Ned. I know not what it is. But the fact that he would lie about something that we both know and that your child killing friend know happened, that is something not even Rhaegar or Aerys would do- _Even though it chilled him to think of it, he admitted that her words did make sense. Joffrey had been beaten to an inch of unconsciousness by Jon when he had insulted Jeyne and Ashara, and Jon had had to take the black. Joffrey had done something wrong in the Riverlands, and the butcher's boy and Nymeria and Lady had paid for it. Ned saw the way Joffrey's eyes seemed to glow with menace whenever he spoke to Arya or Tommem or Myrcella, but when he was in front of Sansa and his lady mother he was the perfect gentlemen. Ned knew there was something wrong with the boy, but what it was he knew not.

They had arrived in King's Landing at roughly the same time that Jeyne and Ashara had arrived in Starfall- they had ridden with the Royal Party as far as Seagard, before boarding a ship and heading off to Starfall due to Jeyne's ill health- upon arriving in King's Landing Ned had found that he had his work cut out for him. He quickly discovered that Robert did not bother to attend small council meetings and instead preferred to spend his time drinking and whoring. It fell to Ned to deal with the huge debt that the throne had, it fell to him to settle disputes between this lord and that lord, and it fell to him to organise the foolish tourney that Robert had decreed be held in his honour as Hand.

All the while he was trying to find out more about who killed Jon Arryn, some of his investigations led him to speak with Pycelle about how Jon Arryn had suddenly fallen ill and whether or not poison may have been used. Varys told him to speak with Jon's former squire but that did not work out for the man was killed during the Tourney. Lord Baelish, a man Ned knew not to trust, led him down the path of looking at Robert's Bastards and pointed him toward a book he had been reading before he had died. A book about the heritages of the great houses and their lineages, at first it had seemed like nothing more than a dull read and he could not truly understand why Jon had been reading this book. Then Catelyn had come to King's Landing.

She came with a Valyrian steel dagger that she said had been used in an attempt to end Bran's life and hers the fact that she was still alive she said was mainly because of Bran's direwolf. She said that the man who had wielded the dagger had been hiding out in the stables of Winterfell for some time, and had likely come with Robert's party to Winterfell. Catelyn also told him that she believed that the Lannisters were behind Bran's fall and perhaps the attempt on Bran's life. Something that she became even more convinced of when Lord Baelish told them that the dagger in question had once belonged to him, but had since switched hands to belong to one Tyrion Lannister just before Robert had ridden for Winterfell. That had convinced Catelyn, but Ned still had his doubts. Why would Tyrion wish to kill Bran if he had visited him in Winterfell and given him a gift, it made no sense, there had to be another reason for it. But Catelyn had been convinced that it was the Imp who had done it, and so he had relented but he had begged her before she had ridden off to be safe and to be careful.

Then Varys had brought news from across the narrow sea that Danaerys Targaryen was pregnant, and Robert had wanted her killed. Ned had argued fiercely against it, they were not child killers; Danaerys Targaryen was an innocent girl who had done no wrong against Robert or Ned. She had not been the one to steal Lyanna away in the dead of the night, she had not whispered sweet words filled with love his sister, she had not been the one whose actions had caused the realm to bleed fifteen years ago, why should she pay the price then for her brother's folly? Robert would hear none of it, ever since they had heard that Rhaegar had taken Lyanna all those years ago, he held a deep seated hatred for all things Targaryen, a hatred that had not cooled even after fifteen years of peace on the Iron Throne. He said he wanted the girl, her child and her brother dead and he wanted them dead now. Ned could not believe what he was hearing, the Robert Baratheon he knew was not a child killer, but then he thought on what Cat had told him in Winterfell those many moons ago, the Robert who sat before him drinking and arguing and bellowing was not the Robert he had known as a boy, was not the man who he had fought beside during the rebellion, this man was a stranger to him and he wanted nothing to do with him. So he told Robert to do as he saw fit, and told him that he was resigning the handship.

Robert blustered and bellowed, but Ned walked out of the council chambers with a much freer conscience than he had walking into it that morning. He had asked Vayon to go looking for the fastest ship that could take himself and his girls home. And he had thought perhaps on the way back they could stop in Dragonstone and he could speak with Stannis Baratheon and see what it was that he and Jon Arryn had been researching when Jon had died and Stannis had fled. Then Littlefinger had come and told him that he had something of import to show him, something to do with why Jon Arryn had been killed.

He led him to a brothel where a babe was suckling on her mother's teat. The babe was named Bella and there was no mistaking whose child she was. Robert's dark hair and blue eyes were evident in her face and Ned was taken back in time to the Vale and a similar girl whose name was Mya and whose mother had been some serving girl Robert had bedded at a feast, and soon forgotten about. "Are you well looked after child?" Ned asked Bella's mother. She was no older than Lya had been when she had died in a bed of blood.

"Yes, but please my lord tell him I've been with no other since, tell him I love him and that Bella loves him. You'll tell him won't you?" The girl asked. "Promise me you'll tell him." _Promise me Ned. _

Ned shivered in the warm summer light. "Aye I'll tell him."

Littlefinger led him out of the brothel and then turned to him. "Do you see it now, do you understand why you must stay here, why you cannot leave?"

Ned looked at the man, at Cat's friend he wanted to reply but found he could not and besides by the time he found the words to speak, another man was calling him.

"Lord Stark, what a delightful surprise." It was Jaime Lannister dressed gilded golden armour the lion of Lannister.

"Ser Jaime," Ned began. "What can I do for you?"

"I would have words with you." The man replied.

Ned looked around him, "Do these words require you to bring twenty armed men, can we not have discussion like civilised men?"

"That depends my lord," the Kingslayer replied.

"Depends? On what?" Ned asked.

"On why your wife has taken my brother hostage to the Vale."

Ned groaned, _Cat what have you done, _"Because I asked her to." He said.

"Very well then," Jamie Lannister drew his steel.

"I'll get help," he heard Littlefinger say.

Ned drew his own sword. Then it was the dance of steel on steel, a dance he had not had since the Tower of Joy. His sword clashed with Lannister men's swords he cut the throat of one man, he pierced the chest of another, he gutted the third. Beside him Jory Cassel, Wyl and Hullen fought the Lannister men. He had a distant memory of six wraiths fighting in the heat of Dorne many years ago, but he was torn from his memory by the sound of screaming he turned to see Hullen fall to the ground a sword through his throat. Wyl soon fell as well.

Jory was next; the Kingslayer pierced his throat with his gilded sword and tore him in two. Ned felt the rage, wolf's blood that he had never truly suffered from- not like Brandon and Lya- take a hold of him then, and he fought like a man possessed. He hacked and slashed at the Kingslayer; he nicked and dented the man's armour, just as the man nicked him. He cut the man across the check and was just about to lunge in for another strike when he felt a sharp pain in his leg, one of the Lannister men had buried their spear in his left leg.

He was forced to kneel down on the ground. He saw Jaime Lannister kill the offending man and then he felt the cold steel of the man's sword on his throat. "You have been warned Lord Stark."

The man rode off then galloping on his warhorse, perhaps back to Casterly Rock, Ned knew not, nor did he truly care. His leg hurt to high hell, he fell over trying to get to Jory, that was how Littlefinger and the City Watch found him, spread eagled on the ground his hand near Jory Cassel's face, blood pouring from the wound in his leg.


	5. Flames Of Justice

**Alys**

Winterfell was a much bigger castle than Karhold. That much was for sure. Where Karhold had been a strong fortified but small castle, Winterfell seemed like a behemoth in comparison. And even with the large part of the household having gone south with Lord Eddard, there were still plenty of people to fill out the vacant jobs that had been left, there were still plenty of people to till the fields, see to the stores and to make steel in the forge. There were times of course, where Alys missed Karhold. When the stress of being the lady of Winterfell got too much she would often think of her mother and her siblings back home in Karhold, and the easy life she had had back then.

Of course her husband did much to ease her home sickness and tiredness. Many a night once Bran and Rickon had been put to bed they would talk to one another in their chambers and would often end the night making love, finishing sprawled out on the bed their clothes a jumble of disarray. She knew Robb was doing his best to manage as Lord of Winterfell in his father's absence. He was working so hard that sometimes he would not come to bed till the early hours of the morning, the first rays of sunlight beginning to creep through. She knew that when his mother- Lady Catelyn- had kept her vigil beside Bran's bedside, Robb had shouldered all the responsibility and the burden, and it had started to get to him, there were lines and creases forming on his handsome face, and there were worry lines constantly present as well.

Then the assassin had come, and tried to kill Bran and Lady Catelyn, and then everything had gone mad. Lady Catelyn had told them how she had received a letter from her sister blaming the Lannisters- especially the Queen- for her husband, Jon Arryn's death, and she believed that the Lannisters had been behind this attack as well, and so she had set off for King's Landing to speak with Lord Eddard, and seek justice. Whilst they waited to receive word from either Lady Catelyn or Lord Eddard, Tyrion Lannister had come to Winterfell. Now with the whole of Winterfell having heard of the attack on their lady and their lady's son, and with Robb having taken his mother's warnings of the Lannisters to heart, it was no surprise that that the Lannister's reception on his way back to King's Landing had been a cold one.

She could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, and still had some left over. Oh Lord Tyrion was polite enough, but she could see the way his eyes were sizing Robb up, the way they were analyzing his every word and action, it was almost as if he was plotting something, something that might explain why the Lannisters were behind Bran's attack. And then he had gone and surprised them all by giving Bran a saddle to allow him to ride again. That had completely stumped all of them, though Lord Tyrion had claimed that he was merely doing Robb's cousin Jon a favour. After they had retired, she could tell that Robb was beginning to have his doubts about the Lannisters being involved- well perhaps not all the Lannisters maybe just Lord Tyrion- and she also knew that the golden curl they had found in the Broken Tower must have come from a Lannister. So she was not surprised when Robb had asked her whether or not he should ask Tyrion to make some enquiries about the curl. She had told him to sleep on it and decided in the morning, for she had had more important news to tell him, she was pregnant.

Robb's face had changed then. It had gone from being completely somber and serious to complete joy, he had smiled and kissed her and kissed her till they were both breathless, and then had asked, "Are you sure?"

She had laughed then and smiled. "Of course I'm sure Robb. I haven't bled for two moons now."

He had smiled then, not the lord's smile he often used in court, but a true and proper smile, the smile he had had on the day of their wedding.

Letters had been sent to Karhold and King's Landing to inform their parents about the good news. Letters of congratulations had been received from both locations, though the letter from King's Landing had come with a curious note from Lord Eddard. He wrote that the girls were well but that they had met misfortune on the road, and that the hammer would soon be striking the anvil. She had not been able to make sense of what he had written and had for one moment thought that perhaps the stress of being Hand was getting to her good father. When she had turned to voice her doubts to Robb, she had been taken aback to see a look of deep concentration on his face, she asked what the matter was and his answer surprised her.

"Something must be going on in King's Landing, something bad. Father never speaks about the hammer unless something bad's happening."

Alys had been intrigued. "How so?"

Robb had turned from the letter and looked at her, his Tully blue eyes fixed. "When we were little, that is I and Sansa and later Jon, father always used to tell us about the hammer and the anvil, you know the story of Prince Maekar and Prince Baelor."

Alys nodded, every child in the seven kingdoms knew that song.

Robb went on. "Well father always used to say to us, that the hammer was the striking point, the weapon that could cause all matter of chaos should it strike the right point. The anvil was that point, should it be struck all matter of problems would occur."

"So you or your father believes that something is in the offing. Something big. Something chaotic?" Alys asked curious.

Her husband had put on his "Robb the lord face" as Theon had taken to calling it and said solemnly. "Aye, I do, and my father must do. With the attack on Bran and the golden hair we find in the broken tower, something must be stirring. And you know our house words?"

She nodded. "Winter is coming." Robb nodded.

That had been nigh on two weeks ago, and still they had heard not a word from Lady Catelyn, and Alys knew her husband was worried. In fact she knew that the whole of Winterfell was worried. She desperately hoped that her good mother had done nothing rash on her way down to or back from King's Landing. She knew that the Tully Words were Family, Duty, and Honour and in that order, she only hoped that Lady Catelyn knew when they were applicable and when they were not.

But of course there was very little point worrying over that now, life had to go on. Robb had decided to take Bran riding on his new horse Dancer riding on the saddle made from Lord Tyrion's instructions. With Robb and Bran would be Theon and several guards from Winterfell, for they would be venturing into the Wolfswood to hunt. Alys was staying behind, not out of choice though, Maester Luwin had told her that riding during a pregnancy could be very damaging for the babe, or babes and thus she was confined to simply walking around the yard.

That didn't stop her coming to the courtyard to see Robb, Bran and Theon off though. She smiled when she saw how happy Bran was on Dancer, and how he was riding the horse up and down the courtyard, it was nice seeing a smile on his face for a change. Robb and Theon were trading japes, and Rickon was stood beside her, Shaggydog on his other side holding her hand and begging to go as well.

"When you're older Rickon, maybe then and besides don't you want to sword fight with Ser Rodrik?" Alys asked.

Rickon nodded enthusiastically, he was a sweet kid, always tailing after Bran and Robb and wanting to do whatever they wished to do. So she took his hand said goodbye to Robb and Bran, and then walked with him to the main yard where Rickon ran off to get fitted up with pads and a sword for a practice bout with wooden swords with Ser Rodrik.

As she watched Rickon practice with his wooden sword, she remembered times at Karhold when she would watch Torr and Ed and even sometimes Harrion practice in the yard. She remembered that Harrion was always the fiercest of her three brothers, and often fought against three opponents at once, supposedly to be ready for any battle that he had to fight but Alys suspected that perhaps it was because he simply wished to show off for the gaggle of girls that often followed him around. Torr was the quickest of her three brothers when it came to sword fighting and apparently had what Karhold master of arms Denys Locke has termed a cat 's eye. Ed was neither the quickest nor the fiercest, but he had the most skill, if it could be termed that. He never truly lost a bout against anyone other than their two brothers and even then she suspected that it was to boost their egos more than anything else.

She watched Rickon for about an hour before she decided to get up and take a look at the accounts. There was not much for her to actually look at but she thought she might as well do something rather than just sit around doing nothing. She found Maester Luwin in the main castle hustling and bustling about with the usual variety of things in his pockets and sleeves, it was a wonder he could move his arms at all.

"Ah my lady," the maester said when he saw her. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if we could take a look at the accounts Maester Luwin. There was something I just wanted to double check." Alys replied.

"The accounts?" Luwin asked. "Certainly, follow me."

And so Alys followed Maester Luwin from the main hall of the main castle in Winterfell and to his tower and there they poured over the accounts from the last few months including the King's visit. Alys was astounded by how much one simple visit- albeit a royal visit- had cost. She was surprised that Winterfell was still standing and financially capable after having had to pay for such a visit without raising taxes, if Karhold had had to host the King and his entourage they likely would have gone broke.

The surprise must have shown on her face, for she heard Maester Luwin chuckle. "Winter is not the only thing that the Starks are sure about. Winterfell knows how to get gold and pay its dues."

"How?" Alys asked.

Maester Luwin gave her a cheeky grin and said "With many mystical and magical things my lady, as well as from the taxes and trade that come through the north."

Alys was about to ask what mystical and magical things Winterfell had when she heard the sound of voices in the courtyard followed by growling, the growling of direwolves. "It must be Robb and Bran." She said, Maester Luwin merely nodded and then followed her out of the room as she made her way down from the Maester's tower and into the main courtyard.

Where she found her husband and good brother and Theon dismounting with a wildling hostage in chains walking behind her. Alys looked at Robb with her eyebrows raised questioningly.

Robb sighed and as he helped Bran onto Hodor's back said. "We were attacked by wildlings in the wood."

Alys felt her heart tighten at his words.

"One of them threatened Bran; we killed him and the others. There was only this one left." He nodded to the woman who was in chains.

She began begging for mercy. "Please my lord, my lady. Please mercy, I'll be good I'll do whatever you want of me, I promise."

Robb looked at her and she could see just how tired he was, but before she could say anything he spoke, with his 'lord's voice'. "You want mercy, very well then," he looked to one of the guardsmen. "Take her to the maester's tower for questioning."

The guard hastened to obey. Soon the rest of the people gathered in the yard dispersed back to do their own jobs. Bran had Hodor carry him back to his room, summer trailing hot on his heels. Theon muttered something about going to see a lady friend of his. That just left herself, Robb and Greywind in the courtyard.

Robb sighed, as he watched Theon leave. "He's not very happy with me I fear." He sounded sad.

"Why, what happened in the woods?" Alys asked.

Robb sighed again. "Come walk with me back to our rooms and I'll tell you," and so they did as they walked Robb told her about the events of the Wolfswood and the hunt. "So you see one of the wildlings had his dagger to Bran's throat. I couldn't do anything otherwise Bran'd be dead. But Theon shot the arrow that killed the man, and I flipped out on him, because I was worried about Bran." He sounded so sad, it was all Alys could do to comfort him that she squeezed his hand.

"You were right to be worried, but I think you should apologise to Theon, he was only doing his duty." She said.

"I suppose you're right." Robb said wanly.

As they entered their rooms they found Maester Luwin and Theon standing by the doorway. Both with differing expressions on their faces, the old maester looked worried, Theon on the other hand looked angry.

"What seems to be the problem, Maester?" Robb asked.

"A raven came this morning my lord." Luwin replied.

"Oh?" Robb asked holding out his hand for the raven so that he could read it.

He read it once, then twice, then thrice, each time his expression became more and more dire.

"What is it my lord?" Alys asked concerned.

Robb stopped looking at the letter and looked at her, "My mother's taken Tyrion Lannister captive. She's taken him to my aunt in the Vale for questioning. The Kingslayer attacked my father in the streets and killed his men in retaliation. My father lies injured and unconscious on a bed in King's Landing."

She was shocked, she knew not what to say. But it seemed Theon did. "You must make them pay for this Robb. Blood for Blood."

Robb merely looked at Theon then at Maester Luwin, and then at her and their babe who was growing in her stomach. And she felt her heart beginning to pound. Winter was truly coming.

* * *

**Catelyn**

It had been pure coincidence she realised now that her path back to Winterfell, back home had brought her into contact with Tyrion Lannister. Her sojourn to King's Landing had been fruitful to say the least. She had come with Ser Rodrik just as the sun was beginning to set and darkness was about to take hold, and yet she had been welcomed by a man in Petyr's service. How Petyr had come to know of her visit still confused her and worried her slightly, were there spies in Winterfell working for him as there surely were working for the Spider.

The men Petyr had sent for her, had led her to one of the many brothels that her childhood friend had owned, and there she had found him waiting for her a friendly smile on his lips. They had reminisced about old times and talked about various news, if there was one thing that Peytr had always been good at, it was talking and knowing things that perhaps he shouldn't have known. Like the fact that he knew why she was here in King's Landing and even asked to see the knife that the assassin had been used. He had told her that he had once owned the knife but had lost it in a bet during Joffrey's name day tournament to the Imp.

She had been baffled and confused, why would the Imp want Bran dead? What could he possibly hope to gain from seeing her little boy dead? Of course she had kept such questions to herself, until Ned had come. Ned had nearly throttled Petyr to death when he had seen where she was staying it had taken her several long moments to calm him down once she had popped her head outside the window. That had stirred forth an old memory, one she had long thought she had forgotten, of another Stark, a wilder Stark duelling Petyr and nearly killing him until she had begged him to spare her friend's life.

She had quickly tried to shake the memory away as Ned entered the establishment and walked to her room and into her arms. Oh it had felt so good to hold him again, it had been far too long, and she missed him terribly still. Of course they had little time to reconnect; she had very little time to spare in King's Landing if she did not wish to draw the Lannisters' attention. And so she had told Ned everything that had happened since he had left all those moons ago, she spoke of the attack and the assassin and the blade he carried. When Petyr told Ned how he had lost the dagger to Lord Tyrion, Ned's face had changed from confusion to anger, back to confusion again. The change was so quick that unless you knew how to spot it, it would go unnoticed. But Catelyn had been married to Ned for fifteen years now, she knew how to read him.

He had been cautious in his response to Petyr's claims and had asked her to be most careful on her return north; she had asked the same of him. Petyr had promised to help Ned in his investigations of Jon Arryn's death as well as the attempt on their Bran's life. Varys had been present during the discussion and yet had remained oddly silent throughout it, and yet she had not missed the knowing glint in his eyes when Petyr had said goodbye to her, his hands lingering longer than was strictly appropriate. Ned had seen too, but she had eased any worries he might have had by kissing him squarely on the mouth in front of everyone and saying she loved him, only him before she said goodbye and rode away on her horse, Ser Rodrik as her companion.

She had not meant to linger long in the inn where they had set up for the night. It was meant only for the night and then they would ride back through the Neck and on to Winterfell. But something about her was it her movements or was it something else, had given her away to Lord Tyrion who had entered the inn at the most inconvenient of times, with a group of men from the Night's Watch. He had recognised her and had begun speaking to her, blowing her and Ser Rodrik's cover, and possibly giving him something to be suspicious about to report back to his sister, which could have caused Ned no round of trouble in King's Landing.

And besides Petyr had said the dagger belonged to Tyrion now, and so she had done what the Tully family words said, she took Tyrion Lannister a hostage for the good of her family, with the help of men sworn to her father, to fulfil her duty. She had taken him captive and despite his protests that he had had nothing to do with the attempt on Bran's life, she had taken him to the Vale, to the Eyrie, where she was convinced her sister Lysa would help bring him to justice. She had been sorely mistaken. They were first assaulted by men of the mountain clans on their way to the Vale, and only saved by some rogue sellsword who had happened to be in the inn the same time as them. And then when they got to the Eyrie, she was not greeted warmly nor was she thanked by her sister for bringing one of the people she had accused of killing her lord husband here for justice. Her sister accused her of committing a grievous folly.

Lysa herself was not what Catelyn was expecting. Gone was the carefree girl she remembered from her youth. In her place, it seemed was a woman, who looked and acted older than she was, hell she acted older than even Catelyn herself was, she seemed to see shadows and knives everywhere. Her son eight year old Robert was a sickly little boy, and still at his mother's breast, much to Catelyn's horror. The imp had been right, her sister was much changed, and not for the better.

After accusing her of folly, Lysa began conducting her own trial of Tyrion Lannister. She accused him of killing her lord husband, and of several other crimes. The imp played her for a fool, using that gilded tongue of his to worm and slither his way out of many a tight spot. And then when he demanded trial by combat, her fool of a sister granted it to him.

The day of the trial, she learnt from Ser Rodrik that Tywin Lannister had amassed a host at Casterly Rock and was not replying to any of her brother Edmure's ravens. She learnt that Ned had been attacked in the streets of King's Landing by the Kingslayer because she had taken the Imp. She thought with some horror about what her actions had caused, then she thought back to the Imps adamant denial of having any involvement in the attempt on Bran's life or the murder of Jon Arryn, and how when she had told him that Petyr had told her where the dagger had come from, when she had seen the look in the Imp's mismatched eyes, she had felt a sliver of doubt begin to creep into her system. Could it be possible that the Imp spoke true and that Petyr had lied to her, and Ned? She did not know what to believe, but she had hoped to convince Lysa to abandon the foolish trial, and yet her sister would not relent.

And so she had watched unable to do anything as Ser Varis Edgen one of the men parts of the guard at the Eyrie had fought in her sister and nephew's name, and as the sellsword Bronn fought for the Imp. And she watched as Bronn killed Ser Varis with a thrust to the throat, and then to the heart. She watched rooted to the spot, as Tyrion Lannister was declared innocent of the crimes laid before him, by the laws of gods and men he was innocent, and her sister was not happy. Lysa screamed and yelled at the injustice of it all, Robert Lysa's sickly son cried and cried that he wanted the 'bad man' to fly. Amongst it all Tyrion Lannister stood, triumphant, a smirk on his ugly face, triumph written in his mismatched eyes.

He left the Vale that same day, likely to head back to Casterly Rock or perhaps to the Golden Tooth, where it was rumoured Lord Tywin's' army was marching to now. Wherever he went to Catelyn cared not, her actions had been folly, taking Tyrion Lannister had been folly, bringing him to the Vale had been folly. It had brought her nothing, Ned had been hurt because of her actions, and her girls' lives put in danger now. All she wished to do now was to go home, back to Winterfell and her boys and her good daughter, and welcome her grandchild into the world.

Then word had come of the battle of the Golden Tooth, the smashing of the forces under Lord Vance and Piper's command. The Kingslayer was marching on Riverrun, as vengeance for an act Catelyn had committed. She felt horrible, she felt like a foolish girl. To make matters worse, relations between herself and her sister were strained, more so than they had ever been when they were girls. Lysa was scared, scared that she had incurred the wrath of Tywin Lannister, scared that the might of House Lannister was going to march down upon them at any moment.

It was because of this Catelyn told herself, that when she offered to foster Robert Arryn in Winterfell, that her sister replied "If you ever, every suggest that or try to make it happen, I will throw you out of the moon door. Kin or no." Catelyn tried not to think that her sister had become as mad as King Aerys, that there was something of the innocent girl who had ridden south to King's Landing all those years ago, that there was still something of the girl she had grown up with who liked songs and knights, almost as her own Sansa did. Worryingly, she found herself coming up short, and vastly so.

They left for Gulltown three days after the raven came bearing news of the battle of the Golden Tooth. Catelyn's Uncle Ser Brynden the blackfish accompanied her and Ser Rodrik. He said that he was fed up with Lysa's petulant displays, that her father and her mother would be ashamed of her. He decided he wished to come north with her, to meet the great nephews he had heard so much about. It was whilst they were at Gulltown that they learnt of Ned's arrest. The talk in the streets was that he had killed Robert, to claim the throne for himself, or that he had conspired with Lord Stannis to take the throne and denounce Joffrey Both explanations sounded farfetched and untrue to Cat's ears, her Ned was not like that. He hated trickery and deceit. At Gulltown they heard of the battle of Mummer's Ford of how Gregor Clegane had killed the men Ned had sent out to bring him to justice. They learnt of the battle of Riverrun, of her brother Edmure's capture.

Throughout it all she could only berate herself for her foolish actions. She had taken Tyrion, and was the reason behind this chain of events. Had she not taken Tyrion, then none of this would have happened. It made her once again begin to doubt the words Petyr had told her, the sincerity in his eyes when he had told her that the dagger she held was Tyrion Lannister's. She remembered how when they were children, Petyr would always tag along after her like a lost puppy and how Lysa would tag along after him. She remembered how when Brandon Stark had come visiting before Harrenhal, how Petyr had challenged him for her hand in marriage, and how after Brandon had beaten him bloody he had been sent away by her lord father. She thought about all of this and shuddered. She had been a fool.

When they got to White Harbour, she found out that Robb had called the banners. The North had woken from its slumber, with vengeance in its heart. Winter was coming and war was upon Westeros.

* * *

**Ashara**

Dorne was always hot during the summer. It was something that had both frustrated and delighted Ashara throughout her life. It was why when she had thought herself and Ned were to be married, she had been slightly sad that she would have to leave it, it had been her home for many a year. But then Ned had married Catelyn Tully in his brother's place, and she had been left behind in Starfall, with a bastard daughter and a boy she claimed and came to love as her son. Her marriage prospects became fewer once it became common knowledge that she had not one but two bastard children, but she didn't mind, she didn't care. With Ned gone, she no longer had any desire to leave Starfall let alone Dorne, which was why she rejected every suitor that came wanting to claim her hand, be they from Dorne or from anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms, she had heard all they had to say and she had rejected them all.

Besides it was a full time job she had at Starfall. Allem's wife had died giving birth to Edric, so it had fallen to her to play both the mother to her own children and Edric and Allyria. She simply had not had the time to consider a life away from Starfall, not that she would have anyway. She liked it at Starfall, after so many years in King's Landing and the stuffiness and the intrigues of the court, and the constant worry that Aerys would turn his mad lust or attentions to her or her friends; she was quite relieved by the normality that Starfall offered her.

Her children were her sole poles to life and normalcy. Jon was a quiet baby, so much so that he reminded her of Ned, there seemed not to be a hint of Targaryen in his features nor his personality as he grew up into the fine young man he was today. In fact Allem had even joked that there seemed to be more of her in him than the north, especially when it came to Jeyne. She had hoped and prayed that the two of them would get along as they grew, and they had. In fact Jon and Jeyne's relationship reminded her lot of Oberyn and Elia's relationship, or even her and Arthur's relationship. Jon played the protective brother and would always, always pick a fight with anyone who dared challenge or question Jeyne's integrity or even her right to life. Though of course there were few of such people in Dorne, though from what Jeyne had told her, there had been quite a few in the north.

Of course she had been there when Jon had been brought before the king and Ned to answer for the 'crime' of punching the crown prince. She knew that Jon did not like Prince Joffrey, neither did Jeyne. But of course Joffrey was the prince, and was also the son of Ned's oldest friend, and so whilst Jon spoke the truth about what had happened, Joffrey spun some atrocious lie about her boy being a savage- if he wanted to see real savages, or real anger, he need only say more, she had thought- Jon had had to at the end of it take the black. She had been seething with anger over that decision. She knew that Jon had been in two minds over his own decision over whether or not to join the Night's Watch. It seemed that little ploy Jeyne had used back in Winterfell had created enough doubt in his mind. But then Robert Baratheon, the child killer king had had the nerve to tell Jon that he had to go to the wall or face even more dire consequences. All the while Prince Joffrey stood next to his slut of a mother and grinned wickedly, like he had got away with some big crime- in fact he had gotten away with a big crime- afterwards, it had fallen to Ashara to comfort Jeyne, whilst she cried and cried. Jon had had to talk with Ned about whatever it was men talked about in situations like this.

She had been so angry with the king, with the prince, with Ned! How could he not speak sense to his oaf of a friend, when it was clear the boy was lying! The Eddard Stark she had known would never have tolerated such trickery to go on, especially when it was one of his own blood- or in this case, two of his own blood- involved! But he had meekly stood to the side as Robert Baratheon had sentenced Jon to the Night's Watch. Later he had come and spoken to her, had pleaded with her that Jon joining the Watch was a good thing, that it would help protect him even more than he would be at Winterfell, or even Starfall! He said that there was a storm coming, that the Lannisters had killed Jon Arryn, and that they might have tried to kill his son. She had felt sympathetic toward him, this man she had given her heart to, but she could not, would not forgive him for allowing her son to be sent to the Wall simply because the king was too much of a coward to stand up to the slut he called his wife.

Eventually, her temper had cooled down enough that she had agreed to ride with the Starks as far as the Twins, where she and Jeyne would then take a ship from to reach Starfall. Before she had left Winterfell she and her daughter had said a tearful farewell to Jon, Jeyne clinging to him sobbing her apologies into his tunic, Jon had comforted her, reassured her it was not her fault, keeping his voice calm as he so often was when speaking with Jeyne, but then he had said goodbye to Ashara, and he had broken down then, cried tears and sobbed into her hair. She had whispered promises to him then, promises that she would do all she could to free him of the Night's Watch, for she had friends in the Watch, friends in high places, and she would call in many a favour to have her boy back with her, where he belonged.

Jeyne had fallen in on the ship from Seagard; something about the air had caused her to take a chill. Her direwolf, Sandy had howled and howled into the early hours of the morning, each day they had been on the ship, much to the other crew members and passengers distress, it was almost as if she could sense that something bad was about to hit them. As it turned out something bad did hit them, pirates from the Stepstones had ventured north in search of loot and plunder, attacked the crew and killed most of the members, and would have tried to attack Ashara and a bed ridden Jeyne had it not been for Sandy, who had torn the throats out of three of the pirates before the remaining three had been killed by Ironborn. Ironborn aid was unexpected, Ashara knew they tended to stick to their own lands and only traded, especially since the failed Greyjoy rebellion. But the captain of the Ironborn that helped them went by the name of Asha Greyjoy, and told her that she did not want to see pirates hurt more innocent women and children. Asha helped Ashara and Jeyne onto her own ship and transported them to Starfall.

Jeyne was still ill upon their arrival to Starfall, though she was less ill than she had been aboard their ship from Seagard. Most days since they had returned she was abed, asleep with help from the milk of the poppy, when she was awake her daughter spent most of her time coughing up food or even more frighteningly blood. Jeyne had always had a frail health, but she was strong of mind and spirit if not of body, and had lived longer than the maesters had thought she had any right to. There were times when her daughter reminded her so much of Elia, it hurt. She prayed and prayed that her daughter would find the happy ending that her friend could not, she prayed that her son would come back home, she prayed they could be a family again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She called for whoever it was to enter and found her looking and her daughter' sworn sword. Ser Arthur was a tall man, with a sturdy build; his hands were lined with calluses from years of sword practice. He had blond almost silver hair and violet eyes, and had been her daughter's sworn sword since Jeyne had been three, before that he had served as the master of arms for Starfall. He was a serious man, with a handsome face, but more often than not that face was lined with thought, he had been the one to train her son the finer arts of sword fighting, when Jon had still been a child.

"My lady forgive me for the interruption," Ser Arthur began as he closed the door. "I only meant to come and ask you, how is the Lady Jeyne doing?"

"It is no bother Ser Arthur, I was not doing anything. Jeyne is doing well, better than she has been for the last few days. Maester Berwick says that the fever should break soon." She smiled up at him, this man she had known her whole life.

Ser Arthur gave her an uneasy smile then. "That is good my lady," he hesitated.

"What is wrong Ser Arthur? Does something trouble you?" she asked, as always able to figure out if something was wrong with him without him having to ever say a word.

"Yes, no, I am not sure my lady, Ashara." He replied, it had been so long since he had called her anything but Lady Ashara, that she felt hope bloom in her chest. "Word has come from the Water Gardens, Prince Oberyn rides for Starfall with his daughters and his paramour Ellaria Sand, and some fifty armed men."

Ashara nodded and asked. "Why does this worry you Ser Arthur? Prince Oberyn is no foe to me or mine."

She saw Ser Arthur swallow nervously, "It is said he brings dire tidings Ashara. I know not what tidings he brings, but I fear it may be to do with your son."

Ashara felt her heart tighten then, what could have happened to Jon? She had been working on getting him out of the Night's Watch before he had said his vows, but that had not worked, now she was working desperately to give the Lord Commander excuse to free him without having to execute him.

Arthur knew not what news Oberyn brought, nor did Maester Berwick. Oberyn arrived three days later as the sun began to rise on the horizon, he rode a black stallion, his paramour Ellaria, and the four eldest sand snakes, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sallera rode with him.

Ashara greeted them along with Allyria and Ser Arthur, Jeyne was still bed ridden but she was awake. She greeted Oberyn and Ellaria like long lost friends. "Ah Oberyn, Ellaria it has been too long. Where have you been?"

Ellaria smiled and Oberyn laughed. "Busy with my brother, keeping Dorne under control. You know my daughters I trust."Ashara nodded of course she did, the Sand Snakes were as in famous as their father, but they were all her friends and allies to her family.

Once they had all been settled in and rested Allyria led Nymeria, Sarella and Obara away from the Lord's solar, and to explore the grounds. Ashara, Ellaria, Oberyn, Ser Arthur and Tyene Sand- Oberyn's daughter- were the only ones left in the solar. Ashara cleared her throat. "I have known you for most of my life Oberyn. You do not usually move from Sunspear or the Water Gardens unless you have specific reason for doing so, not since Elia was alive have you wandered. So why are you here?"

Oberyn chuckled then. "So observant as ever Ashara. It is true what you say. I have come bearing dark words. Eddard Stark has been branded a traitor and has been locked in a black cell by the boy king and the Lannister woman."

Ashara tried to keep her face neutral but couldn't help but say. "That's a lie, Ned would never betray Robert, never."

Oberyn nodded. "I know Ashara, I know. Our sources in the city report that his youngest daughter, Arya I believe her name is, fled the city when her father was arrested. His oldest daughter Sansa remains a captive in King's Landing, her brother has called his banners and marches for war."

Ashara felt her chest tightening, she was good friends with Catelyn Tully, that Ned's wife knew nothing about her relationship with Ned didn't hurt, and she had grown fond of her children, she could not imagine how much this must be hurting her. But that could not solely explain why Oberyn was here. "So what has this to do with me?" she asked.

Oberyn snorted. "You know full well what it means. You might have fooled Doran by claiming Jon and Jeyne as that fool Brandon Stark's but I've known you for far longer, and I know what you felt for Eddard Stark. I am here to propose a solution to this problem. The Iron Throne wishes to secure our alliance, and why not they are faced with enemies on either side. Doran will propose a betrothal between Trystane and Myrcella Baratheon. That will bring us closer to the throne, and closer to justice for Elia and her children. If they have any sense in King's Landing they will agree to what my brother suggests. I will go as his representative to collect Princess Myrcella and to bring her to Dorne. Whilst there I will also try and help Ned, and his daughter escape and if I can find his little one as well."

Ashara could not speak. Oberyn went on, "I will need your assistance though. Tyene will be accompanying me, but I will need Jeyne to come as well so that they know my intentions are honourable." He stopped and looked at Ser Arthur then and said with a fierce tone in his voice, "We could not safe Elia, I will not let anymore innocents fall victim to the Lannisters nor their cruelty."

It was all Ashara could do to nod and agree, she would go as well of course, Jeyne needed her, Allyria would be left to run Starfall alone. _I'll save your children Ned, I won't them meet the same fate as Elia and her babes._


	6. March Of Death

**Robb**

He was marching to war. Here he was all of ten and five years of age and marching to war. The straw that had broken the camel's back, the boy king on the throne Joffrey had arrested Robb's father and had accused him of treason. Robb did not believe the accusation for a moment. His father would never betray King Robert, he would never do anything that went against his friend's wishes, even if it went against his own- like sending Jon to the Wall- it was obvious to Robb that the Lannisters were trying to frame his father to hide their own crimes. He was convinced of this. They had tried to kill his brother twice, they were invading and pillaging his grandfather's lands, and now they accused his father of treason. Yes they were definitely trying to cover up their own misdeeds.

Robb had called the banners, and the lords of the north had come. Lords Umber, Bolton, Glover, Hornwood, Karstark, Tallhart, Flint and Lady Mormont had all come to Winterfell with their men and their own sworn bannermen. Strategies had been discussed, and Robb knew that he would have to prove his mettle to these men and lady, they were seasoned warriors and would more than likely think him a green boy playing at war. He had known that he would have to prove himself every inch his father's son. The first test had come at one of feasts held to welcome the Umbers to Winterfell. The Greatjon had been demanding that he lead the van instead of Lord Glover, and Robb had refused, the Greatjon had then gone onto question Robb, Robb had lost his temper then and Greywind had responded in kind by biting of two of the Greatjon's fingers. The man had laughed and ever since then Robb had had the man's unquestioning respect.

Strategies were discussed, and battle plans made and through it all there was one man, or rather one lord who remained quiet. Not saying a word, not doing anything. Lord Bolton. The man was eerily quiet at all times and it was unnerving. Robb remembered hearing stories about the Boltons from Old Nan when he was a boy, tales of how they were all flesh eaters or how they had fought with the Kings of Winter for centuries before the conquest before eventually bending the knee. Yes Robb thought he was in the right to remain suspicious of Lord Bolton, to a certain extent after all he did remember his father telling him that Lord Bolton had fought bravely during the rebellion and was also unlike some of his predecessors a loyal bannerman to Winterfell. Still, it wouldn't hurt to keep a close eye on him.

Another issue that Robb had had to face before they could actually begin the march south was who to leave in charge of the running of Winterfell. At present his mother and Ser Rodrik were still somewhere in the south, whether they were still in the Vale or nor Robb did not know, but until he did know he had planned on leaving Alys behind to help Bran run Winterfell. She had point blank refused to stay behind, insisting that if he was marching south so was she. Robb had argued with her, saying that her marching south was too risky, she was pregnant and could be carrying his heir, and whats more he couldn't stand the thought of losing her to some incident on the field, he had begged and pleaded with her to stay in Winterfell, and she had point blank refused. She had said that if he was marching south so was she, she wanted to be there for him, and then she had told him she loved him and Robb had felt so helpless in that moment that he had reluctantly agreed that she could come, so long as she was guarded throughout the duration of the war. Her father had laughed when Robb had told him that Alys was coming, saying that she had always been strong willed even as a child.

With that sorted Robb had left Winterfell in the hands of Bran and Maester Luwin, leaving behind some 500 men to hold the castle. And then with the men mustered had marched south to Moat Cailin, where Lord Manderly had sent his son Ser Wylis with 1500 men to join them. Even at Moat Cailin there was further discussions on battle plans and the best way to attack the Lannisters. Some like the Greatjon urged them to march straight for the Green Fork and finish Tywin Lannister of one and for all, others such as Lords Glover, Karstark and Bolton argued it would be more prudent to strike the Kingslayer's host and free Riverrun, due to the fact that the Kingslayer was much more rash than his father and would make a terrible decision along the way, Tywin Lannister was like to be more careful and calculated in his attacks.

That was when Robb's mother had arrived. She had been gone for two moons and Robb had never been so happy or so relieved to see her. He had greeted her and then asked if she still had the Imp as a hostage, and was most disappointed when she said that she did not. Once the rest of the lords had been dismissed for the night and it was just himself, Alys and his mother in the hall, she asked him how he planned on freeing his father. He talked about perhaps splitting their host in two and giving command of the second host to Lord Umber whilst he marched further south to free Riverrun, but then after some consideration decided to give Lord Bolton command of the second host. It seemed his mother approved of this decision, and when he mentioned his suspicions of Lord Bolton, Alys suggested perhaps placing her brother Harrion in charge of some men and placing them with Lord Bolton's host, for as she said, "Harry will be loyal Robb, he'll keep an eye on Lord Bolton for you." He had agreed and so had his mother.

Then had come trouble, they had been camped outside the Twins and were not able to pass, for Lord Walder Frey and his castle held the only available crossing to get south of the neck for miles around unless Robb wished to navigate round miles and miles of treacherous bogs, and swamps. Lord Frey had according to the scouts that Ser Brynden had set out called his swords to the Crossing, but as of yet whether he meant to declare for the Lannisters or not no one was sure, more than likely Robb's mother argued he was biding his time waiting to see who the winner would be. Then it had become apparent, Walder Frey wanted something, it seemed that he wanted marriages for his children, as Robb was already taken, Bran and Arya ended up being betrothed to either a granddaughter or a grandson and Robb ended up taking on Walder Frey's son Olyvar as a squire, even though Olyvar was many years older than him. The deal though was not all compromise on Robb's part , for Walder Frey gave him an extra two thousand men, and only asked that some 400 men be left behind and so Robb agreed though he disliked selling his brother and sister off like they were cattle, and the northern host split into two, with Lord Bolton taking 16,000 men south to the Green Fork, whilst Robb marched further south to deal with the Kingslayer the siege of Riverrun.

They rode quickly and as quietly as possible, sending outriders to prevent any scouts from warning the Kingslayer of their approach, and when they entered the Whispering Wood, the foundations of the trap were being set. The Kingslayer was impulsive and would be prone to making rash decisions, Robb decided to play on that. He sent the outriders under his uncle the Blackfish bearing Tully colours to tempt the Kingslayer out of his camp, and whilst that was happening began harrying the Lannister supply trains along with some 1,000 men. Once the men protecting the supply trains had been killed, Robb heard the horns sounding of Lady Mormont, Lord Umber and Lord Karstark bidding farewell to his wife and to his mother, Robb donned his helm and led the charge.

It was frenzy, there was a mass of bodies, armour and horses in Robb's line of vision as he hacked and slashed his way through the Lannister host. He cut one man's arm off, and felt it as Greywind then tore the man's throat out. He then shoved his sword through the chest of a man wearing the crimson of the Lannisters, and then engaged in a dance of steel with a man wearing the boar of House Crakehall. Sparks flew from their swords as they both battered each other's defences, swinging, hacking and cutting. Armour was dented, cuts were made and blood flowed from their wounds. Until eventually Robb gained the upper hand he feinted to the right, drawing the man out and then parried the man's sword swing just as Greywind leapt from where he was on the ground and tore into the man's throat.

Robb rode on, continuing the hacking and slashing and cutting through of men who stood in his path. Beside him Greywind tore the throats out of any man who wore Lannister livery that got past Robb's guards or that Robb did not have the chance to kill himself. To his left, Eddard Karstark who served as part of his guard sliced through opponent after opponent just like Alys said he would, he glided through the ranks of Lannister men staining the ground and his sword red. To his right, Dacey Mormont another one of his guards used her morning star to cudgel several Lannister men to death, their heads caved in by the force of the blows from her weapon.

Robb continued hacking and slashing his way through the Lannister men, killing more and more men as he went, staining the grounds of the Whispering Wood red with Lannister blood. He felt hope begin to bloom in his chest, the Lannisters were losing, they were winning, and he was winning. Then he heard the Kingslayer's voice. "STARK!" the man bellowed. "Come out and fight, or are you too craven?"

Robb bristled at the man's taunts and would have rode on through the mass of bodies in his way had Dacey not put a restraining hand on his horse's reins. "Leave him be," she hissed. "We'll deal with him." Robb saw Daryn Hornwood advance forward sword raised, and watched horrified as his friend didn't even land a blow on the Kingslayer's person but was instead cut down and opened up from head to toe, his guts and insides pouring open. Next was Domeric Liddle another of his personal guard rode forward, Robb heard the clashing of steel and saw sparks flying before his very eyes as Domeric and the Kingslayer fought. For every blow Domeric landed on the Kingslayer, the man landed three on Domeric and then with one quick thrust the Kingslayer buried his sword into Domeric's throat before he pulled it out and continued forward.

"Come on Stark, come out and fight!" The Kingslayer bellowed, Robb tense but Dacey would not let go of his horse's reigns. Beside him he heard Greywind growl menacingly, Eddard Karstark rode forward then sword raised. And they danced. Karstark and Lannister danced the dance of steel. The Kingslayer thrust, Eddard parried, Eddard swung, the Kingslayer hacked. The exchanged blows and wounds and cuts and dents, until both were bleeding quite severly and then Eddard raised his sword once more but as he was bringing it down the Kingslayer thrust his sword forward and buried it deep within Robb's good brother's chest.

Eddard Karstark fell of off his horse and to the ground, his brother Torrhen rode up to take his place. But lasted less time than even Daryn Hornwood did, for he was already injured from the battle and missing a hand besides. The Kingslayer made short work of Robb's other good brother and then spurred his horse forward, Wendel Manderly, Smalljon Umber and Owen Norrey all moved their horses forward in a protective arc around Robb, who sat stunned on his horse, Greywind growled menacingly.

"Move aside my lords and let me at the Young Wolf. Move aside and once he is dead, I shall ask my nephew to pardon you." The Kingslayer said.

"Never," replied Wendel Manderly.

"I would rather die than be pardoned by a Lannister." Replied the Smalljon.

"We die before he does." Owen Norrey replied.

"Very well then, die you shall." Replied the Kingslayer as he drew his golden sword which was stained red with blood.

But before he could so much as move, an arrow came whizzing out of the air and pierced his horse's neck, followed by several other arrows that pierced the rest of the horse's body causing it to fall down to the ground, but not before the Kingslayer had jumped off of it. His sword still drawn he advanced forward, slowly, menacingly. Robb was rooted to the spot unable to move even if he wanted to, the men of his guard tightened up their arc of protection around him. Another arrow whizzed through the air and soared over the heads of the arc and landed just in front of the Kingslayer, stopping him and giving Ser Wendel just enough time to spur his horse forward far enough that he could club the Kingslayer with the flat end of his sword hard enough to knock the man out.

Robb turned to see a grinning Theon Greyjoy with his bow drawn. "Well that was fun." Greyjoy said a hint of laughter in his voice.

"What would you like use to do with the Kingslayer my lord?" Owen Norrey asked.

Robb shook himself out of the daze he had been in and said, "Put him in chains. Finish of any Lannister soldiers you see trying to flee."

The rest of the battle past in a blur for Robb, those men who were part of Jaime Lannister's party in the Whispering Wood were either killed fighting or as they tried to flee, or taken prisoner. At the end of it Robb rode back to the clearing where his wife and mother awaited, riding not on the black stallion he had ridden out on, but on a brown warhorse, the Kingslayer dragged along in chains and thrown at his mother and wife's feet.

Even in defeat the Kingslayer was cocky. "My ladies how very nice to see you. I would offer you my sword but I seem to have mislaid it."

Robb's mother looked at the man with cold eyes. "It is not your sword I want ser. Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters and my lord husband."

"I'm afraid I can't, I've mislaid them too, it would appear."

"A pity."

Robb continued looking at the Kingslayer as more words were bandied about, at the end though Robb had heard enough. "Take him away." Men hastened to obey.

Later as he walked back to the campsite with his mother and wife by his side, he heard Alys ask. "Where are Torr and Ed Robb?"

Robb felt something tighten in his throat; he struggled to get the words out and could not look at his wife when he did speak. "He killed them, the Kingslayer did, he buried his sword and split them open. If I had been able to, had I not..." he trailed off unable to go on and terrified his wife would hate him now that her brothers were dead and he was responsible for their deaths.

But Alys reassured him. "You couldn't have done anything my lord. Torr and Ed died doing their duty to their liege. We still must free Riverrun, and then we can grieve."

His mother nodded. "You did well today Robb but Riverrun is still under siege and until it is freed this is not over."

That night they retook Riverrun. The Lannister encampments surrounding Riverrun were left almost leaderless due to the capturing of the Kingslayer, and when the Blackfish set out that night, he was given orders to spare not a single soldier. Robb watched his great uncle lead the men given to him and soon the shouts of Winterfell and Tully could be heard as could the screams of the Lannister men as they were killed in their tents by the flames of the torches or by the swords and spears through the chest as they hastily tried to put on armour and defend themselves. Then when Tytos Brax led the charge to try and defend his fellow Westerlanders Robb led his men into charge, and soon he had a chance to avenge the deaths of his fallen friends. He hacked down one man wearing the crimson red of the Lannisters. He cut open a man wearing the Brax colours and then he lopped of the head of a third man wearing the livery of House Westerling.

Men on Riverrun's walls fired rocks at the rafts thus preventing more men from coming and helping their fellow comrades. Lord Umber fired the siege towers and broke the reserve of the Lannister men camped around Riverrun, and when the Lannister men led by Ser Tybolt Crakehall tried to form a shield wall to defend themselves they were cut down in the rear by a sortie led by Lord Blackwood.

Robb continued hacking and slashing at the Lannister soldiers, bloodying his sword and his armour and littering the ground with dead bodies as Greywind tore into any man Robb left behind or did not have the chance to deal with himself. He kept fighting, his sword never once went down or back into its sheath during the night, and when he heard the sounding of horns being blown, the sound of victory and he heard Greywind howl in response and saw the Lannister encampment aflame he felt something primal within him begin to stir, something hungry, and he tasted something that felt like victory and something that felt like justice.

Riverrun was free, for now.

* * *

**Sansa**

_The walls of the throne room had been stripped bare, the hunting tapestries that King Robert loved taken down and stacked in the corner in an untidy heap._

_Ser Mandon Moore went to take his place under the throne beside two of his fellows of the Kingsguard. Sansa hovered by the door, for once unguarded. The queen had given her freedom of the castle as a reward for being good, yet even so, she was escorted everywhere she went. "Honour guards for my daughter-to-be," the queen called them, but they did not make Sansa feel honoured._

_"Freedom of the castle" meant that she could go wherever she chose within the Red Keep so long as she promised not to go beyond the walls, a promise Sansa had been more than willing to give. She couldn't have gone beyond the walls anyway. The gates were watched day and night by Janos Slynt's gold cloaks, and Lannister house guards were always about as well. Besides, even if she could leave the castle, where would she go? It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella's garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. Sometimes she prayed in the godswood as well, since the Starks kept the old gods._

_This was the first court session of Joffrey's reign, so Sansa looked about nervously. A line of Lannister house guards stood beneath the western windows, a line of gold-cloaked City Watchmen beneath the east. Of smallfolk and commoners, she saw no sign, but under the gallery a cluster of lords great and small milled restlessly. There were no more than twenty, where a hundred had been accustomed to wait upon King Robert._

_Sansa slipped in among them, murmuring greetings as she worked her way toward the front. She recognized black-skinned Jalabhar Xho, gloomy Ser Aron Santagar, the Redwyne twins Horror and Slobber . . . only none of them seemed to recognize her. Or if they did, they shied away as if she had the grey plague. Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away._

_And so many others were missing. Where had the rest of them gone? Sansa wondered. Vainly, she searched for friendly faces. Not one of them would meet her eyes. It was as if she had become a ghost, dead before her time._

_Grand Maester Pycelle was seated alone at the council table, seemingly asleep, his hands clasped together atop his beard. She saw Lord Varys hurry into the hall, his feet making no sound. A moment later Lord Baelish entered through the tall doors in the rear, smiling. He chatted amiably with Ser Balon and Ser Dontos as he made his way to the front. Butterflies fluttered nervously in Sansa's stomach. I shouldn't be afraid, she told herself. I have nothing to be afraid of, it will all come out well, Joff loves me and the queen does too, she said so._

_A herald's voice rang out. "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm."_

_Ser Barristan Selmy, resplendent in white plate, led them in. Ser Arys Oakheart escorted the queen, while Ser Boros Blount walked beside Joffrey, so six of the Kingsguard were now in the hall, all the White Swords save Jaime Lannister alone. Her prince—no, her king now!—took the steps of the Iron Throne two at a time, while his mother was seated with the council. Joff wore plush black velvets slashed with crimson, a shimmering cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar, and on his head a golden crown crusted with rubies and black diamonds._

_When Joffrey turned to look out over the hall, his eye caught Sansa's. He smiled, seated himself, and spoke. "It is a king's duty to punish the disloyal and reward those who are true. Grand Maester Pycelle, I command you to read my decrees."_

_Pycelle pushed himself to his feet. He was clad in a magnificent robe of thick red velvet, with an ermine collar and shiny gold fastenings. From a drooping sleeve, heavy with gilded scrollwork, he drew a parchment, unrolled it, and began to read a long list of names, commanding each in the name of king and council to present themselves and swear their fealty to Joffrey. Failing that, they would be adjudged traitors, their lands and titles forfeit to the throne._

_The names he read made Sansa hold her breath. Lord Stannis Baratheon, his lady wife, his daughter. Lord Renly Baratheon. Both Lord Royces and their sons. Ser Loras Tyrell. Lord Mace Tyrell, his brothers, uncles, sons. The red priest, Thoros of Myr. Lord Beric Dondarrion. Lady Lysa Arryn and her son, the little Lord Robert. Lord Hoster Tully, his brother Ser Brynden, his son Ser Edmure. Lord Jason Mallister. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Lord Tytos Blackwood. Lord Walder Frey and his heir Ser Stevron. Lord Karyl Vance. Lord Jonos Bracken. Lady Sheila Whent. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne, and all his sons. So many, she thought as Pycelle read on and on, it will take a whole flock of ravens to send out these commands._

_And at the end, near last, came the names Sansa had been dreading. Lady Catelyn Stark. Robb Stark. Brandon Stark, Rickon Stark, Arya Stark. Sansa stifled a gasp. Arya. They wanted Arya to present herself and swear an oath . . . it must mean her sister had fled on the galley, she must be safe at Winterfell by now . . ._

_Grand Maester Pycelle rolled up the list, tucked it up his left sleeve, and pulled another parchment from his right. He cleared his throat and resumed. "In the place of the traitor Eddard Stark, it is the wish of His Grace that Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, take up the office of Hand of the King, to speak with his voice, lead his armies against his enemies, and carry out his royal will. So the king has decreed. The small council consents._

_"In the place of the traitor Stannis Baratheon, it is the wish of His Grace that his lady mother, the Queen Regent Cersei Lannister, who has ever been his staunchest support, be seated upon his small council, that she may help him rule wisely and with justice. So the king has decreed. The small council consents."_

_Sansa heard a soft murmuring from the lords around her, but it was quickly stilled. Pycelle continued._

_"It is also the wish of His Grace that his loyal servant, Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, be at once raised to the rank of lord and granted the ancient seat of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes, and that his sons and grandsons shall hold these honours after him until the end of time. It is moreover his command that Lord Slynt be seated immediately upon his small council, to assist in the governance of the realm. So the king has decreed. The small council consents."_

_Sansa glimpsed motion from the corner of her eye as Janos Slynt made his entrance. This time the muttering was louder and angrier. Proud lords whose houses went back thousands of years made way reluctantly for the balding, frog-faced commoner as he marched past. Golden scales had been sewn onto the black velvet of his doublet and rang together softly with each step. His cloak was checked black-and-gold satin. Two ugly boys who must have been his sons went before him, struggling with the weight of a heavy metal shield as tall as they were. For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms._

_As Lord Slynt took his place, Grand Maester Pycelle resumed. "Lastly, in these times of treason and turmoil, with our beloved Robert so lately dead, it is the view of the council that the life and safety of King Joffrey is of paramount importance . . . " He looked to the queen._

_Cersei stood. "Ser Barristan Selmy, stand forth."_

_Ser Barristan had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, as still as any statue, but now he went to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Grace, I am yours to command."_

_"Rise, Ser Barristan," Cersei Lannister said. "You may remove your helm."_

_"My lady?" Standing, the old knight took off his high white helm, though he did not seem to understand why._

_"You have served the realm long and faithfully, good ser, and every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. Yet now I fear your service is at an end. It is the wish of king and council that you lay down your heavy burden."_

_"My . . . burden? I fear I . . . I do not . . . "_

_The new-made lord, Janos Slynt, spoke up, his voice heavy and blunt. "Her Grace is trying to tell you that you are relieved as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."_

_The tall, white-haired knight seemed to shrink as he stood there, scarcely breathing. "Your Grace," he said at last. "The Kingsguard is a Sworn Brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life. Only death may relieve the Lord Commander of his sacred trust."_

_"Whose death, Ser Barristan?" The queen's voice was soft as silk, but her words carried the whole length of the hall. "Yours, or your king's?"_

_"You let my father die," Joffrey said accusingly from atop the Iron Throne. "You're too old to protect anybody."_

_Sansa watched as the knight peered up at his new king. She had never seen him look his years before, yet now he did. "Your Grace," he said. "I was chosen for the White Swords in my twenty-third year. It was all I had ever dreamed, from the moment I first took sword in hand. I gave up all claim to my ancestral keep. The girl I was to wed married my cousin in my place, I had no need of land or sons, my life would be lived for the realm. Ser Gerold Hightower himself heard my vows . . . to ward the king with all my strength . . . to give my blood for his . . . I fought beside the White Bull and Prince Lewyn of Dorne . . . beside Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Before I served your father, I helped shield King Aerys, and his father Jaehaerys before him . . . three kings . . . "_

_"And all of them dead," Littlefinger pointed out._

_"Your time is done," Cersei Lannister announced. "Joffrey requires men around him who are young and strong. The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take your place as the Lord Commander of Sworn Brothers of the White Swords."_

_"The Kingslayer," Ser Barristan said, his voice hard with contempt. "The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend."_

_"Have a care for your words, ser," the queen warned. "You are speaking of our beloved brother, your king's own blood."_

_Lord Varys spoke, gentler than the others. "We are not unmindful of your service, good ser. Lord Tywin Lannister has generously agreed to grant you a handsome tract of land north of Lannisport, beside the sea, with gold and men sufficient to build you a stout keep, and servants to see to your every need."_

_Ser Barristan looked up sharply. "A hall to die in, and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords . . . but I spit upon your pity." He reached up and undid the clasps that held his cloak in place, and the heavy white garment slithered from his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. His helmet dropped with a clang. "I am a knight," he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. "I shall die a knight."_

_"A naked knight, it would seem," quipped Littlefinger._

_They all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak. Finally he drew his sword._

_Sansa heard someone gasp. Ser Boros and Ser Meryn moved forward to confront him, but Ser Barristan froze them in place with a look that dripped contempt. "Have no fear, sers, your king is safe . . . no thanks to you. Even now, I could cut through the five of you as easy as a dagger cuts cheese. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not a one of you is fit to wear the white." He flung his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne. "Here, boy. Melt it down and add it to the others, if you like. It will do you more good than the swords in the hands of these five. Perhaps Lord Stannis will chance to sit on it when he takes your throne."_

_He took the long way out, his steps ringing loud against the floor and echoing off the bare stone walls. Lords and ladies parted to let him pass. Not until the pages had closed the great oak-and-bronze doors behind him did Sansa hear sounds again: soft voices, uneasy stirrings, the shuffle of papers from the council table. "He called me boy," Joffrey said peevishly, sounding younger than his years. "He talked about my uncle Stannis too."_

_"Idle talk," said Varys the eunuch. "Without meaning . . . "_

_"He could be making plots with my uncles. I want him seized and questioned." No one moved. Joffrey raised his voice. "I said, I want him seized!"_

_Janos Slynt rose from the council table. "My gold cloaks will see to it, Your Grace."_

_"Good," said King Joffrey. Lord Janos strode from the hall, his ugly sons double-stepping to keep up as they lugged the great metal shield with the arms of House Slynt._

_"Your Grace," Littlefinger reminded the king. "If we might resume, the seven are now six. We find ourselves in need of a new sword for your Kingsguard."_

_Joffrey smiled. "Tell them, Mother."_

_"The king and council have determined that no man in the Seven Kingdoms is more fit to guard and protect His Grace than his sworn shield, Sandor Clegane."_

_"How do you like that, dog?" King Joffrey asked._

_The Hound's scarred face was hard to read. He took a long moment to consider. "Why not? I have no lands nor wife to forsake, and who'd care if I did?" The burned side of his mouth twisted. "But I warn you, I'll say no knight's vows."_

_"The Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard have always been knights," Ser Boros said firmly._

_"Until now," the Hound said in his deep rasp, and Ser Boros fell silent._

_When the king's herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she'd had them dye it black and you couldn't see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain._

_The herald's voice boomed out. "If any man in this hall has other matters to set before His Grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence."_

_Sansa quailed. Now, she told herself, I must do it now. Gods give me courage. She took one step, then another. Lords and knights stepped aside silently to let her pass, and she felt the weight of their eyes on her. I must be as strong as my lady mother. "Your Grace," she called out in a soft, tremulous voice._

_The height of the Iron Throne gave Joffrey a better vantage point than anyone else in the hall. He was the first to see her. "Come forward, my lady," he called out, smiling._

_His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does. Sansa lifted her head and walked toward him, not too slow and not too fast. She must not let them see how nervous she was._

_"The Lady Sansa, of House Stark," the herald cried._

_She stopped under the throne, at the spot where Ser Barristan's white cloak lay puddled on the floor beside his helm and breastplate. "Do you have some business for king and council, Sansa?" the queen asked from the council table._

_"I do." She knelt on the cloak, so as not to spoil her gown, and looked up at her prince on his fearsome black throne. "As it please Your Grace, I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard Stark, who was the Hand of the King." She had practiced the words a hundred times._

_The queen sighed. "Sansa, you disappoint me. What did I tell you about traitor's blood?"_

_"Your father has committed grave and terrible crimes, my lady," Grand Maester Pycelle intoned._

_"Ah, poor sad thing," sighed Varys. "She is only a babe, my lords, she does not know what she asks."_

_Sansa had eyes only for Joffrey. He must listen to me, he must, she thought. The king shifted on his seat, "Let her speak," he commanded. "I want to hear what she says."_

_"Thank you, Your Grace." Sansa smiled, a shy secret smile, just for him. He was listening. She knew he would._

_"Treason is a noxious weed," Pycelle declared solemnly. "It must be torn up, root and stem and seed, lest new traitors sprout from every roadside."_

_"Do you deny your father's crime?" Lord Baelish asked._

_"No, my lords." Sansa knew better than that. "I know he must be punished. All I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did. He was King Robert's friend and he loved him, you all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the king asked him. They must have lied to him. Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or . . . or somebody, they must have lied, otherwise . . . "_

_King Joffrey leaned forward, hands grasping the arms of the throne. Broken sword points fanned out between his fingers. "He said I wasn't the king. Why did he say that?"_

_"His leg was broken," Sansa replied eagerly. "It hurt ever so much, Maester Pycelle was giving him milk of the poppy, and they say that milk of the poppy fills your head with clouds. Otherwise he would never have said it."_

_Varys said, "A child's faith . . . such sweet innocence . . . and yet, they say wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes."_

_"Treason is treason," Pycelle replied at once._

_Joffrey rocked restlessly on the throne. "Mother?"_

_Cersei Lannister considered Sansa thoughtfully. "If Lord Eddard were to confess his crime," she said at last, "we would know he had repented his folly."_

_Joffrey pushed himself to his feet. Please, Sansa thought, please, please, be the king I know you are, good and kind and noble, please. "Do you have any more to say?" he asked her._

_"Only . . . that as you love me, you do me this kindness, my prince," Sansa said._

_King Joffrey looked her up and down. "Your sweet words have moved me," he said gallantly, nodding, as if to say all would be well. "I shall do as you ask . . . but first your father has to confess. He has to confess and say that I'm the king, or there will be no mercy for him."_

_"He will," Sansa said, heart soaring. "Oh, I know he will."_

And so like the good lady she was Sansa had gone and spoken to her father, had begged him to confess that what he had said in the throne room was not true. She had expected her father to protest to do anything, but he had merely nodded meekly, and told her he would. And so Sansa had left his cell feeling happier than she had in a long, long time. Of Arya there was no news, she had not been found, but her gallant prince had told her that her cousin Jeyne and her aunt Ashara would be coming to King's Landing soon, to visit and to help bring Princess Myrcella to Dorne. That only served to increase her happiness she liked her cousin Jeyne and she liked her Aunt Ashara and maybe then everything would be alright.

That was what she kept telling herself as she made her way to the Great Sept of Baelor, her father would admit that what he had said was wrong and her gallant prince Joffrey would spare him and allows him to go home, and if they were lucky they would find Arya. That was what was running through her head as her father began to speak.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I come before you to confess my treason."

The crowd began to murmur, Sansa continued looking at her father willing him to go on. Praying that what was right would happen. Her father continued. "I betrayed the faith and trust of my king and friend King Robert Baratheon the first of his name, may he rest in peace. I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

More murmuring followed the end of her father's confession; stones came out of the crowd and struck her father in the head. Her lord father remained stoically still, he did not move nor did he falter when the stones hit him and drew blood. The High Septon stood forward. "This man has confessed his sins and his treason. As we sin to do the gods forgive us. What is to be done with this man Your Grace?"

Her gallant prince stepped forward then and Sansa felt hope bloom in her chest, her father would be cleared, he would be free, she knew it, Joffrey had promised. "My lady mother and the Lady Sansa have begged me to spare Lord Eddard, to grant him mercy and allow him to take the black," he turned to look at her and smiled. Then went on. "But they have the weak hearts of women. So long as I am king, know that treason shall not go unpunished. Ser Illyn bring me his head."

Sansa screamed then and fell to her knees sobbing trying to beg for mercy, Varys rushed forward, Pycelle stuttered and stumbled, her father was forced to his knees and his head placed on the chopping block, Ser Illyn raised his sword- it looked familiar- and brought it down and separated her father's head from his body, Sansa screamed and sobbed and then she fainted and knew no more.

* * *

**Alys**

The aftermath of a battle, as Alys was quickly finding was when men's blood ran the highest. After the battle of Whispering Wood, Robb had come back to their tent and made love to her so passionately and so fiercely, she had thought she might have been in paradise. Afterwards as they laid beside each other strewn on their bed, Robb's hand splayed protectively over her swelling stomach, Robb had sighed and said, "I understand if you hate me Alys. Truly I do."

She had been confused. "Why would I hate you Robb? You haven't done anything to harm me have you?"

He turned to face her then, his eyes were so full of hurt Alys wanted to kiss it all away, and instead she waited for him to speak. "I'm still alive whilst Torr and Ed are dead. They died because I wasn't man enough to fight the Kingslayer myself, it should have been me."

"Don't ever say that Robb, don't you dare say that," she had said passionately. "Torr and Ed died doing their duty protecting their liege lord and their good brother. Whilst I am sad that they are dead and will mourn them, I am glad that you are safe and are here with me," she locked their fingers together and moved them down to her belly. "With us."

Robb had given her a watery smile then. "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" he had asked.

"A girl I think, I'm not carrying low enough for it to be a boy." She had replied.

Robb had smiled then and said. "I will be late coming back to the tent tonight. We have to fight the Lannisters once more. I'll have Owen and Ned stand guard outside our tent to protect you."

She had been about to refuse but looking into her husband's eyes she knew that doing so would be futile and so she had nodded and had kissed him goodbye that night as he had ridden off to fight yet another battle. She had stood there for a long moment unsure of what to do with herself, and so had walked back to their tent, when her good mother had stopped her. "I know it can be difficult seeing your husband off to fight,"

Alys had looked at her good mother, had looked at the worry lines that were mapped across her face and asked. "Does it ever get easier?"

Lady Catelyn had smiled a sad smile then and said "No it never does. I sent Ned off to fight in the rebellion when I barely knew him. Then again when the Greyjoy's rebelled and once more when he went to King's Landing and each time it gets harder and harder. But we stick through it and carry on, for as the Stark words say winter is coming."

She had left her good mother then and entered her and Robb's tent and spent the next few hours awake, unable to sleep for waiting to hear news of the battle. The early lights of dawn were just beginning to creep through the tent when she heard the cheering of men and the galloping of hooves. She went outside to see what all the commotion was about. "Lord Stark has returned my lady." Owen Norrey told her. She ran to where the noises were coming from, not caring about how unladylike she might have looked and when she saw Robb, standing there giving the reigns of his horse to his squire, his armour covered in mood and blood she threw herself into his arms. And then leaned up and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless, earning more than a few catcalls from those men nearby.

Robb had smiled at her then, his cheeks going a faint red. "I'm pleased to see you too my love."

"How did it go?" she asked.

Robb's face became somber and solemn then. "We finished them off, but 1000 of their men still managed to flee. Riverrun is safe though."

"And my father?" she asked terrified.

"He is well, he received an injury but he is well." Robb replied.

They had been preparing to move everything to Riverrun when news had come from King's Landing. Dark Wings, Dark Words was the common saying and the news that this raven brought was particularly dire and dampened the celebratory mood of the men, and crushed Robb and Lady Catelyn. Lord Eddard was dead, beheaded for treason on the orders of King Joffrey.

Something inside of Robb had broken when he had read the words of his father's death. Alys knew, she could see it in the way his eyes began to redden, in the way his hands began to shake. He had left for the godswood and she had not seen him since, and she was beginning to get worried, so she left her father's company and walked toward where she had been told the godswood of Riverrun was.

It was there she found her husband hacking and slashing at a weirwood tree with his sword, denting it and tearing bark of the tree. He was crying she could see that clearly, could hear it in his shallow breathing. Lady Catelyn came and stood beside her and spoke. "Oh Robb," she said.

Robb looked up through tear stained eyes at his mother then her, "You've damaged your sword now Robb." Catelyn said.

Robb looked at his sword and through it down to the ground where it hit with a resounding clatter. He stood there in front of them for a long moment, then he all but ran into his mother's outstretched arms. She heard him mumbling oaths into his mother's shoulder and then he looked up and looked at her and said "I'll kill them all, every single last one of them. I'll kill them all."

Alys felt her heart break into tiny pieces for her husband, lady Catelyn replied. "First we must get the girls back and then we'll kill them all."

Robb sniffled and then broke off from his mother's hug to embrace Alys, Alys held him tight and kissed his cheek before he broke off from her and walked back toward the castle. Greywind appeared and followed him back. Alys watched her husband walk back to the castle with her heart heavy.

"Look after him Alys, he will need you now more so than ever." She heard her good mother say.

"I know," she said. "I will." She promised.

Later that day, she found herself sat in a council meeting with her husband and good mother. Listening to the lords bicker about whom to declare for, they were arguing like children. One lord saying they should declare for Stannis, the other saying they should declare for Renly. The biggest surprise though was when her good mother said they should sue for peace. Robb replied that the only peace he had for the Lannisters was the sword he held in his hand, Alys felt her nerves beginning to worsen.

Then the Greatjon bellowed through the commotion. "My lords, this is what I have to say for Stannis and Renly," he spat onto the ground and several of the lords gathered laughed. "Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the south. What do they know of the Wolfswood, of the wall, of the north? Nothing that is what," he drew his great two handed longsword, and pointed it at Robb. "There is the only king I mean to follow. The King In the North!" He knelt and laid his sword at her husband's feet.

"I'll have peace on those terms," Alys heard her father say. "They can keep their iron chair and their red keep." He drew forth his longsword and laid it beside the Greatjon and kneeled beside the Greatjon. "The King in the North."

"The king of winter!" Maege Mormont cried as she laid her mace next to the two longswords. Soon others took up the cry, and the riverlords, men who had never been ruled from Winterfell in ages past took to the knee and laid their weapons at her husband's feet. "The King and Queen in the North!" Theon Greyjoy shouted.

Alys felt herself shiver and she gripped Robb's hand and held it tightly. Winter was Coming now, the North would make sure of it.


	7. War Pigs

**Robb**

Sometimes at night he could still here the shouts, "King in the North!" his men had cried, in their haste and their fear to avoid bending to a southerner. There had been no King in the North for three hundred years, not since Torrhen Stark had bent the knee to Aegon the Dragon. And now, here he was Robb Stark not yet a man in age, but having fought two battles and won them both, he was the successor to Torrhen Stark, lord of Winterfell and King in the North. It was a daunting prospect, especially if he thought about what the news might mean for Sansa and Arya, he knew what Joffrey was like, had watched him when the royals had come to Winterfell. The boy was cruel and snarky, he still remembered the comments he had made to Jeyne, and how Jon had beaten him black and blue. That was why he had brought Ser Cleos Frey out from the cells in Riverrun and had given him terms, because he knew that his lords would crucify him alive if he tried to trade the Kingslayer for Sansa and Arya, no matter how much it pained him to admit it, he knew he could not do that and still expect his men to follow him.

So he had sent Ser Cleos off to King's Landing with his terms, hoping and praying to both the old gods and the new that the Lannister Queen would be able to talk sense into her son. Should that not work though, he knew that the Westerlands were largely undefended, what with the kingslayer's army either dead or scattered, Tywin Lannister and his forces camped in Harrenhal, the West was ripe for the taking. Casterly Rock was ripe for the taking. The north did not have a fleet, and wouldn't be able to have a sufficiently big enough fleet for some time, and so Robb knew that the Ironborn would be invaluable for the attack on the West. From speaking to Theon he had gathered that it was likely that his father might try and crown himself king and so Robb had sent Theon off with a proposal for an alliance. Ironborn raids of the West with the northmen raids, if Casterly Rock fell they would share the plunder, and the west could become Balon Greyjoy's. Theon assured him that he would get his father to listen, and so he had sent his friend off despite his mother's protests and reservations.

Robb knew that he couldn't just stay in Riverrun now though, not after having won two battles. His men would get restless and the Lannisters would think he had gone soft or scared. He could not have that, he needed to march, and he needed to march west. He still needed to secure the Riverlands though, for they were a part of his kingdom, and so he had given the Riverlords leave to return to and secure their lands. So far they had been largely successful, Lord Blackwood had fought a fierce battle outside the castle of Raventree Hall and had won his castle back, the same could be said for Lord Bracken at Stone Hedge. Darry men had regained their castle for their liege lord- a boy no older than Bran- and Lords Vance and Piper were making progress harrying Lannister supply lines going to Harrenhal.

All of this boded well for Robb and the northern cause, and yet he knew that should he try and take King's Landing to free his sisters, he would need more than just the northmen and the Riverlords. He needed more alliances, what with both Renly and Stannis Baratheon having laid claim to their deceased brother's crown, Robb knew that though Stannis might have the more legitimate claim to the throne, Renly had the greater numbers and was more likely to be accepting of northern independence. This was why he had sent his mother off to treat with him in the Reach. Despite his mother's protests that she would be better served here in Riverrun, he knew that only she had a true grasp of these games the southerners played, and he intended to make full use of her skills and knowledge.

Throughout all of this, Robb had worked under the assumption that Alys would be staying in Riverrun, where she would be safe and protected. But alas no, just like she had argued about coming south with him, so too had she argued about riding into the Westerlands with him. He had tried to argue that she needed to stay in Riverrun, if not for her own safety, than for the child she carried. He had also tried to argue that her father had lost two of his sons and the third was a Lannister prisoner, he had argued that Lord Rickard would not be very thankful if his daughter got into harm's way. When that had not worked he had told her that he would not be able to live with himself if something happened to her, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Her expression had softened at that and Robb had thought that perhaps she might be about to relent and agree to stay in Riverrun, but no she had only stated that she would be riding west with him, if he worried about her safety during battle then he could give her guards, but she would ride west. Once more he had relented, and now that he had he was absurdly glad that he had done so. There was something soothing about his wife's presence beside him as they rode west, and in their tent at night, something that calmed his nerves and made him more able to relax.

Greywind had found a hidden passage way to the side of the Golden Tooth, a passageway that would allow the northern army to go undetected as it marched. The passageway was narrow and could only be marched through in single file, but it allowed them the chance to find the Lannister army of Stafford Lannister camped at Oxcross. They saw the outskirts of the camp the night they arrived, and knowing that secrecy would be the key to winning here, Robb sent his uncle the Blackfish out with two thousand men in the vanguard to kill the few sentries the man had posted. Once that was done, Robb led the main body of the army into the camp, catching Stafford Lannister and his men with his pants down.

It was less of a battle and more of a rout, Robb would think later. Because of the late hour and the fact that the Lannister soldiers had received no warning, they were completely unprepared for what hit them. It was evident, Robb thought, Lannister men were still in their sleeping clothes as the attack began, and some were still rubbing sleep from their eyes as they fumbled for weapons or were killed. Robb himself did much killing, hacking and slashing with his longsword till both it and the ground were stained red. He kept on hacking and slashing at the Lannister men he came across, bleeding them dry. A slash there took a man's hand off, a hack there lopped off a man's head, a cut there pierced a man's chest and killed him. Yes, it was truly a rout. Beside him he could feel and hear Greywind tearing into the throats of those soldiers that Robb either had not come across yet or had not had the chance to kill yet.

He could hear the cries of the enemy soldiers as they were cut down around him, could hear their screams for mercy and how they begged to be spared. But what they didn't know was that, their liege lord had not spared Robb's father, King Joffrey had had Lord Eddard beheaded and had his head mounted on a spike in King's Landing, and for that Robb would make the Westerlands bleed before he killed Joffrey himself. He continued hacking and slashing, as around him those Lannister soldiers that were not already dead or dying, were trampled on or fled, or were killed trying to flee. Stafford Lannister was slain running after his horse by Robb's good father, a small act of revenge on Lord Rickard's part Robb suspects. The battle itself finishes when Lords Crakehall and Jast are captured, both men having received serious wounds in the battle, surrender, and with them so do the 2000 men left with them. Other notable Lannister prisoners include Ser Lymond Vikary and Kevan Lannister's son Martyn Lannister.

With that battle done, the northern lords began preparing their next move, Casterly Rock was a few days march away, but it was likely that the men who had fled would join up with Devan Lannister at Lannisport and as such it would not be a good idea to strike out of the Rock just yet, not until they knew for certain that the Ironborn would help them. As of yet there had been no word from Theon, no letter of acceptance of the alliance from Pyke. Robb was not too concerned for he knew what Theon was like, and was certain that his friend would deliver on his word. Instead it was decided that the northern force would split, Lords Glover and Karstark would go pillaging round Nunn's Deep and the Golden Tooth with 500 men, Lord Umber would raid the gold mines of Castamere and Lady Mormont was to take any livestock she found and drive them back to the Riverlands. Robb would take the rest of the northern strength and march on Ashemark.

The battle of Ashemark itself was a rather bloodless affair for the northern army, Robb would later reflect. The castle itself was held by a garrison of only 200 men, led by Lord Damon Marbrand himself. Lord Damon was an old man nearing his late fifties, he was no longer the strongest of men as he had been in his youth, and the battle for his castle took a few hours. They attacked just as the sun was beginning to rise and as the Blackfish blew his war horn, and Greywind gave an answering howl, Robb felt a chill go up his back, one step closer to justice. He drew his longsword and the charged, the castle gates fell after three ramming, the battle inside the castle was quick, the Marbrand men were overwhelmed by the sheer number of northmen attacking them. Robb hacked and slashed a bloody path through the garrison still mounted on a black warhorse, Greywind next to him, tearing and biting his way through the enemy.

Soon Robb found himself face to face with old Lord Damon Marbrand. The man still looked imposing even if he was not the warrior he had once been. They exchanged blows, slashing and cutting and parrying at each other. Denting the other's armour and drawing blood. Where Lord Damon was experience, Robb was quick, where Damon was cautious, Robb was daring. Eventually Robb's daring paid off, he feinted to his left, drawing the old lord with him and then quickly thrust his sword deep into Lord Damon's chest, piercing through the old lord's armour and into his skin, when Robb pulled out his sword it was coated in blood and old Damon Marbrand had blood spurting from the wound Robb had given him.

The garrison of Ashemark was either dead or wounded. The castle's grizzled old maester- who reminded Robb of the Greatjon's uncle Whorsebane- was the man who surrendered the castle to Robb. The northmen suffered very few losses, perhaps as many as 100. They spent some time in Ashemark, waiting for the rest of the northern force to come to them, four days after the castle had surrendered to them, Lord Umber came to Ashemark and with him came the 100 men he had taken as well as all the gold and plunder from Castamere. Five days after Lord Umber's arrival, Lords Glover and Karstark arrived with their men, and the plunder they had brought from Nunn's Deep, as well as Alysanne Lefford, heir to the Golden Tooth. Three days after Lords Glover and Karstark's arrival word came from Riverrun, writ in his mother's hand. Renly Baratheon was dead, rumoured to have been killed by his brother Stannis, Storm's End had fallen to Stannis Baratheon, and Tywin Lannister's forces had been seen marching from Harrenhal.

News of Renly Baratheon's death had shocked Robb and the northern lords, that he had been killed with the strength of the reach behind him only further served to increase their shock. News of Tywin Lannister's march from Harrenhal, stirred the hopes of the northern lords, if the man was marching west then their plan was working, and they would be able to trap him from both east and west, he only hoped that his uncle Edmure would understand what needed to be done. He worried that perhaps he had not been explicit enough in his instructions to his uncle, when he had told him to hold Riverrun. His doubts grew and so he sent a raven to Riverrun instructing his uncle to allow the old lion through, and then attack from the rear, his only hope as he prepared to ride to the Crag was that his uncle would get the letter in time.

The reason Robb was marching for the Crag was that he had received a raven from the Iron Islands informing him that they would accept his alliance, if he allowed Theon to be freed from the terms of hostage that he had been placed under during the Greyjoy Rebellion, Robb wrote back agreeing to this and therefore when told that an Ironborn fleet under Theon would be sailing from Pyke for the Crag, Robb mustered his men and marched from Ashemark for the old castle.

As they got nearer to the castle outskirts, Robb's suspicions began to grow, as far as he could see there were no ships docked in close to the castle or the grounds, no signs of a struggle in the castle- though it was already a ruin, so it would be hard to tell- "Tell Smalljon and Black Walder that its time." Robb said, Owen Norrey nodded and hastened to obey.

Soon out the corner of his eye he saw the two men in question, scaling the wall. "Ready the ram," he said his heart beginning to pound with nervousness. "Make sure Alys is well protected." He said to faithful Ned Wull who nodded and moved his horse back to ensure Alys's safety.

He watched ram being brought forward and dismounted from his horse and moved toward the ram. Once he had a solid grip on the ram he nodded and the battering of the castle gates began. He felt the vibrations in his shoulders as the ram struck the gate; he heard the startled shouts of the guards on the walls. He felt the vibrations once more as the ram hit the gates once again, this time the startled shouts of the men on the walls turned into curses and screams, the Smalljon and Black Walder had clearly made it over the wall.

As the ram hit the gate for the third time, Robb felt an arrow pierce his armour, he cursed as he felt blood begin to pour out of the wound created. But he could not think for too long on it, for the gate had been broken down. The force of the blow to the gate had carried the ram and those who held it through and allowed them to knock down several members of the Westerling Garrison.

Dropping the ram, the men and Robb drew forth their swords and began the attack. They were met with little to no resistance, many of the men who formed the castle's garrison had likely been killed by Smalljon, Black Walder and the archers Robb had had stationed round the castle. Still there was some fierce fighting, Robb hacked and slashed his way through, but every time he took a blow to the chest he felt his wound begin to worsen, it pained like the seven hells. He just about managed to stay conscious through the pain to have the Westerlings surrender before he passed out.

When he finally came to, he was in a strange room, in a strange bed and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. And then it all came back to him and he jerked suddenly as the door to the room opened and he cursed as a jolt of pain shot through him.

"Now, now husband, we can't have you doing that now can we?" Alys chided.

Robb chuckled, though he winced when the action caused even more pain to flare in his chest. "What happened?" he asked.

"Well you took the Crag my love, though you received a injury to your chest from an arrow. I've been nursing you back to health with help from Lady Jeyne here," she nodded to a girl who had just followed her into the room, she had chestnut curls and a pretty face, and she kept blushing every time Robb looked at her.

"You have my thanks." Robb said both to his wife and to Lady Jeyne.

Alys smiled and then nodded for Jeyne to leave. She sat down on the bed beside him and took hold of one of his hands, squeezing it tightly. "I thought something bad would happen to you Robb. You were ill with the wound for three days before now. I knew you'd make it through though. You always do." She gave him a watery smile.

Robb squeezed her hand then. "Well we Starks are hard to kill, you know. Now tell me what else has been happening since I've been knocked out?"

Alys chuckled then, though her eyes were still watery. "Well since the Crag fell, your lords have been arguing over what to do next. Some argue that it would still be prudent to march on Casterly Rock now whilst Ser Devan struggles to raise another host. We had word from Riverrun as well, your uncle Edmure fought a host led by Ser Armory Loch at the Fords. Loch and the Lannister men there were defeated, Loch was killed."

Robb nodded, and then asked. "No sign of Tywin Lannister?"

At that Alys shifted uncomfortably and said. "Your uncle wrote that one of the men they captured told them that the force under Loch was a diversion, a plot to get Edmure out of the castle and make him think Tywin was marching west. The old Lannister received word from the Tyrells about Stannis marching to King's Landing, whilst he was still in Harrenhal, he sent Loch and some men out to the west, and marched his strength south to join with the Tyrells west of King's Landing in the Kingswood. They took Stannis in the rear after wildfire did in for his ships."

Robb felt his heart beginning to sink, his plan had not worked. Alys went on. "We had word from the north as well." Robb looked up then. "The Ironborn have invaded and taken Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin, that letter you received was a ruse."

Robb had had barely anytime to process what had been said before the Greatjon knocked on the door and entered. "Pardons your graces, but we have just received this letter from Riverrun." He handed the letter to Alys who brought down for them both to read.

As he read what was written in his mother's formal hand he felt his heart break into millions of tiny pieces. Winterfell had been sacked and burned, by Theon, his friend, a man he considered a brother, Theon had killed Bran and Rickon when they had tried to flee, had mounted their heads on spikes on the walls of Winterfell. Robb felt tears begin to fall from his eyes, and soon he was wrapped up in Alys's firm embrace as she mumbled comforting words into his chest, all he could think about was revenge and justice. He would make Theon Greyjoy pay; he would make them all pay.

* * *

**Theon**

He had been so proud when Robb had chosen to send him to the Iron Islands. He had known that Lady Catelyn had protested against sending him, because she no doubt feared that he would betray her son when he returned back to Pyke. But of course he had had no such thoughts, he saw Robb as his brother- more of a brother than Maron and Rodrik had ever been to him- and he had sworn himself to Robb and recognised Robb as his king, he also had promised to convince his father to join forces with Robb and help him attack the Westerlands. He had been convinced that his lord father would have been so happy to see his only surviving son return home to Pyke at last that he would gladly agree to anything that Robb had to offer.

He was wrong. By the time he had left Seagard and sailed for Pyke, his father had already called his banners, and had been preparing for war for some time. Theon had expected to be received on the shores of Pyke with some ceremony and some pomp, after all he was Balon Greyjoy's only surviving son and therefore his heir, he had fought beside the Young Wolf, as people were beginning to call Robb, and had the King's ear, he could bring riches to the Iron Islands, in essence Theon had believed himself to be the prodigal son come home. His father thought not. He was not greeted by his father, but rather by some serving wench- who had turned out to be his sister- she had flirted with him and toyed with him, and then when she had brought him before his father, she had laughed at him, as had his father and his uncles.

His father had accused him of haven forgotten his roots, of having become soft in his time in the green lands. Theon argued that he had not become soft; he argued that his time with the Starks had been good as it had given him a better sense of how the green landers operated, of how they thought and fought. He argued that his time in Winterfell had given his father several advantages that he could use to press home. He argued that because Robb saw him as a brother, Robb would be willing to share even more of the spoils of war with them. His father had snapped then. Theon remembered Balon Greyjoy as being a very proud man with a prickly temper, and the years had done nothing to ease that. He had yelled at Theon, telling him never to claim Robb Stark as his brother, not when it had been the Starks who were responsible for Rodrik and Maron's deaths. Theon had wanted to point out that it was not the Starks who were responsible for his brothers' deaths, but rather Jason Mallister had killed Rodrik and Maron had been killed by the wreckage in Pyke, but he said none of that.

His father had stopped his ranting to ask Theon what this plan was that he and Robb had concocted, and so he told him of how Robb would be marching into the Westerlands to draw Tywin Lannister away from King's Landing in the south, and how at Theon's suggestion would strike at Casterly Rock and Lannisport with Ironborn aid, and how once the Rock was taken, the Ironborn would have the Westerlands as part of their kingdom. Balon Greyjoy had laughed then, had said that he would not follow the beck and call of a pup. No his father said, bold as brass. He meant to take what was his with sword and fire, by the old way. He meant to take the North. Theon had felt some sort of disappointment well up inside of him when he heard that. He knew then that he would never be able to leave and join up with Robb again, not without being seen as a traitor to his family, or a failure to Robb, and both were options that he was not willing to consider.

So he listened as his father gave tasks to his uncle Victarion and his sister Asha, and then he began formulating another plan, one that could still allow him to indirectly help Robb. He asked his father what he was to do to help with the invasion of the north. His father had looked at him with barely concealed disdain, and told him that he would be going with his uncle the Damphair to raid fishing villages along the Stony Shore. That had angered him, deeply. He had fought alongside Robb at the Whispering Wood, at the Battle of the Camps, he had clashed blades with experience warriors, and his father was sending him off to raid fishing villages, something that boys who had just learnt that their cock was not just for pissing did. It angered him deeply, he was his father's true heir and yet his father had just made it clear to him who he truly thought was his heir.

His pride stung, Theon had taken command over the ship the Sea Bitch and had several other smaller vessels with him and sailed for the north with his uncle the Damphair and the man he considered his uncle Dagmer Cleftjaw. Before he left thought his father told him to send a raven to Robb and to tell him that he would meet him at the Crag, and reluctantly he did so, all the while fighting an inner battle with himself over whether or not he should just write to Robb and tell him the truth, tell him his father's plans and forewarn him. But like a coward he did not write to Robb, he burnt the letter that he had started writing and boarded his ship the next day.

The raiding of the villages around the Stony Shore were easy, they snuck up on the unsuspected villagers and killed those they found and took their women as salt wives, and took whatever plunder they could find. Benfred Tallhart and his Wild Hares had come down from Torrhen's Square looking for them, expecting no trouble though they talked and sang loudly, allowing for Theon and his men to sneak upon them in the dark. Theon and his men had butchered the Wild Hares, killing them in hand to hand combat. Benfred was taken hostage and questioned, when he refused to speak and constantly called Theon an oathbreaker, and then insulted the Drowned God, Theon had him put to death. He felt no remorse for the deaths of the Wild Hares or Benfred Tallhart; to him they were one less bothersome obstacle in his path to proving himself to his father.

The killing of the Wild Hares had allowed the true scope of the Ironborn invasion to go unrecognised from Winterfell and had therefore allowed Theon's sister Asha to take Deepwood Motte. When news arrived that Moat Cailin had fallen, he had begun plotting with Dagmer Cleftjaw to take Winterfell. He knew that if he took Winterfell, his father would have to recognise him as his heir, and perhaps might even feel proud of him. The Damphair had been against the plan, stating that was not what his father had wanted him to do, Theon had paid him no mind and had not been sorry to see his uncle go, his uncle had changed since Theon had last known him and not in a good way.

Theon knew that if he wanted to take Winterfell without too many losses he would need to have a distraction to draw out the garrison. So he instructed the Cleftjaw to lay siege to Torrhen's Square, and as the man did so and Theon received word that Ser Rodrik Cassel was marching to relieve the siege, he took twenty of his best men and took a left turn into the Wolfswood and from there had his men swim under the moat and scale the walls.

Winterfell was lightly garrisoned with Ser Rodrik away trying to lift the siege of Torrhen's Square and so Theon and his men had taken the castle with minimal casualties, with twenty men in fact. He had declared himself Prince of Winterfell, and had brought Bran, Rickon, two Walders, and the Reed children brought toward him as hostages. Bran had surrendered the castle, albeit reluctantly and the wildling woman Osha had found herself in his service, though Theon did doubt that she was truly loyal to his cause, but it made no matter. So long as he held Bran and Rickon, the castlefolk, would not dare rise up against him. But then Bran and Rickon had escaped and despite leading a search party, Theon had been unable to find them.

To hide the embarrassment he had Reek kill two miller's boys and had their heads tarred and mounted on spikes on Winterfell's walls, and told the castlefolk that their Starks were dead. That earnt him their hatred, and there were more and more Ironborn deaths as the days went on, his sister came down from Deepwood Motte and begged him to come back with her, telling him that Winterfell was too far from the sea, and that he would never be able to hold it. Like a fool he had refused, his pride had gotten in the way of rational judgement and he had refused, he had asked Asha to leave him some men, expecting that she would leave him more than a hundred, she left him ten and fled back to Deepwood Motte once word reached them that Ser Rodrik was marching with force to Winterfell.

Those ten soon fled as well, back to the Stony Shore with their tails between their legs. Theon was left alone in Winterfell with an ever decreasing number of men, and a looming threat of northmen. Maester Luwin urged him to surrender and take the black, a man's sins were forgiven and forgotten when he took the black, but once more in his arrogance and blinded by pride he refused to give up, he had paid the iron price for Winterfell, and if the northmen wanted it back they would have to pay the iron price to get it. Like a fool he listened to Reek and allowed the man to leave through the gates to get men he said would help him, he sat and waited, and waited, and watched as more of his men began to trickle away, till finally Ser Rodrik came knocking on the door with some 900 men and with Theon only having some seven men to hold Winterfell.

Attempts at a parley failed, Theon threatened the life of Ser Rodrik's daughter Beth, if he did not surrender. Ser Rodrik was paralysed with fear then, but then Bolton men came and Theon felt his heart sink, he thought he was done for. Then he watched amazed as the leader of the Bolton men cut off Ser Rodrik's arm and then proceeded to lead his men as they cut down the men led by Ser Rodrik. He watched transfixed as Ser Rodrik had a sword thrust through his chest by the man leading the Boltons who Theon belatedly realised was the Bastard of Bolton himself. He was rooted to the spot as he saw Cley Cerwyn, a boy he had seen grow up; die from an arrow to the eye. The fighting broke out into the streets of the winter town, and by the end of the fighting there, Theon opened the gates to his saviour.

He had heard many rumours about the bastard of Bolton, some said he was the devil in human form, some said he was a White Walker, but all agreed that he was bad news. In that moment Theon hadn't cared, Ramsay Snow had saved him from an inglorious end. He greeted the man like a long lost friend, only to be paid back with more treachery as the Bolton men soon began killing the Ironborn still left with Theon as well as some of the men still left in Winterfell. Theon watched horrified as the Bolton men burnt the Maester's Tower and the Bell Tower, broke down a side of the First Keep and killed Maester Luwin.

Theon tried to flee, but Ramsay caught up with him and knocked him out. He woke up a few days later unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there, to find Ramsay Snow standing in front of him, a knife in his hands, his eyes glistening with barely concealed malice and madness.

"Ah so the Prince is awake eh? Tell me my prince, do you know where you are?"

Theon turned his head and found that he was tied to a rack, a torture rack. He remained silent. Bolton's bastard laughed. "Oh come now my prince, don't play silent with me. I remember your boasts in Winterfell. Well let us see if you're boasts contained a word of truth shall we?" He had put the knife to Theon's skin and began dragging it down in slow movements, the cold of the knife forced Theon to gasp with shock, and then when the knife drew blood, he cried out.

Ramsay Snow laughed maliciously. "Ah but that's not the worst of it is it now? No killing those innocent little boys, such a poor idea my prince."

"That was your idea." Theon gasped as he felt the knife edge further downwards.

Ramsay was not laughing now, in fact he seemed angry. "Lying won't save you now. I lost my pet when I was captured. But I think you'll make a fine replacement don't you?"

"Piss on you" Theon replied.

Snow's eyes darkened then. "Enough. You shall become my pet, Reek." And with that he dragged the knife down in one fluid motion, and Theon Greyjoy screamed into the darkness.

* * *

**Jon**

It still made him feel like a traitor whenever he thought about that night when he learnt that his uncle had been arrested. He had been so tempted to flee, he had yet to say his vows, it would not be shameful, he would not be an oathbreaker, and yet he had stayed his hand. It might not be shameful but he had promised his uncle Ned he would man the Wall as penance for what he had done to Prince Joffrey, and so he had stayed. He had sworn his vows in front of the weirwood tree and had prayed for guidance from the Old Gods. Instead of guidance they tested him once more, when news of his father's execution reached him. He had fled from Castle Black late that night, leaving Winter's Fury behind, and he had ridden hard and had hidden in the woods, he wouldn't have been found had it not been for Ghost, startling his horse.

Grenn, Pyp and Halder had found him then, and had shamed him into returning back to Castle Black before the morning light had come. He had gone to the Lord Commander's rooms the next day, feeling ashamed and angry. Ashamed that he had almost fled when he had sworn a vow, and angry because his friends could have been caught trying to stop him from fleeing. He had been deeply surprised when the Old Bear asked him how his evening ride had been, and even more surprised when he was told that people had been watching him throughout the day. The Lord Commander had asked him then to truthfully say whether or not he would try and flee south again. Jon already ashamed by what he had attempted promised that he wouldn't. His answer seemed to please the Old Bear as the old man gave him back Winter's Fury and told him to be ready to move out at first light the next day, for that was when they had left for the great ranging. But before then, Jon had found himself summoned to Maester Aemon's room, where the old maester talked to him about several issues relating to the Night's Watch and family, culminating in the old maester revealing that he was a Targaryen, one of only three left alive in the world.

Jon had told the Lord Commander that news the same day as he was helping the Old Bear prepare for the voyage north. Mormont had sighed then and had gone on to tell Jon the story of Maester Aemon. Of how he had being the third son of a fourth son been sent to the Citadel and earnt his chain, of how he had declined to become king when the Great Council was called and how to avoid being used in plots against his brother Aegon the Unlikely, he had ridden north with a former lord commander Brynden Rivers and taken the black, in the same year his brother was crowned king. Mormont told Jon of how Aemon was respected and revered amongst the older members of the watch, as whenever tragedy had struck his family, be it at Summerhall or during Robert's Rebellion, he had never once faltered in his vows to the Watch, he had always remained loyal to the Watch and to what it stood for, something that had earnt him even the grudging respect of Ser Allister Thorne. Jon had been ashamed then, and had sworn to himself that he would try and follow Maester Aemon's example and remain faithful to the Watch no matter what happened south of Castle Black.

The next day they had ridden out from Castle Black in great force, the biggest ranging in living memory, with two sole purposes: to discover what had become of Jon's uncle Benjen and the rangers he himself had been looking for, and to discover what was happening north of the wall with regards to Mance Rayder, the wildlings and the wights. They had marched in force and arrived soaking wet and tired to their bones at Craster's Keep. Jon had heard many things about Craster the wildling, and not many of them were good. Whilst all said that he was a friend to the Watch in that he allowed them to share his meat and roof, he was a sister fucker, a daughter fucker and worshipped the White Walkers. Jon knew not what to believe and therefore decided to give the man a chance.

It soon became apparent that Craster was a man who was impatient and quick to anger, and never truly forgot a slight be it real or imagined. He also had many wives and daughters, Jon was confused as to which was which, but he knew that they were not meant to have any contact- or atleast no more than strictly necessary- with either Craster's daughters or his wives. That seemed to be going just fine for Jon, until Sam tried to convince him to bring back one of Craster's daughters who was also his wife, she was named Gilly and was pregnant, Sam- bless him- wanted to save her from the same fate as her fellow wives and sisters and wanted to bring her back to Castle Black, why though Jon knew not nor did he know how Sam would do that, and he told him as such and told Gilly that they could not take her with them, though he felt something inside him revolt at the thought of leaving such an innocent girl with such a horrid man as Craster. And then that night, as everyone else was settling down to rest, Jon was struggling to sleep, and he saw Craster walking out with a bundle in his arms and out into the Haunted Forest. Curious Jon followed him, keeping a few paces behind the man so he could have a chance to hide if the man turned around. What he saw disturbed and scared him beyond comprehension, Craster was carrying a baby in his arms and when he laid the bundle down in between two trees, he waited for a moment and then said something in the Old Tongue before walking away, Jon had hidden behind a tree when the man had passed by, and then when he was sure that Craster had gone he looked back to see a hooded figure bend down and take the child, Jon did not see what the figure looked like he only knew that he had felt so very, very cold when it was there.

He had returned to the keep shaken and disturbed, and the next day had had a whispered conversation with the Old Bear about what he had seen. He had been deeply surprised when the Old Bear admitted to knowing about what Craster did, and when he had said that many of the rangers who stopped at Craster's Keep knew of what the man did, Jon had felt revolted. He had asked the Old Bear how they could let such a man carry on living for doing something so despicable, and the Old Bear had turned to look at Jon then, his eyes looked so sad and so worn, that Jon regretted speaking of what he had seen in the first place. The Old Bear had said that whilst what Craster did deeply disturbed and disgusted him, it was neither his place nor the place of any in the Night's Watch to question him, for the man no matter what he might be, did provide shelter for them and provide them with information, though he did concede that it was a bitter pill to have to swallow.

One such useful piece of information had them heading to the Fist of the First Men, where Old Commander Mormont had decreed that they would set up shop and try and hold back any advances from further north be they from Wildlings or White Walkers. Of course they still needed information, and so the Old Bear had begun devising which groups of Black Brothers to send out on rangings to find out what they could, that was then Qhorin Halfhand had arrived. The Halfhand was a legend in the Watch, a skilled ranger and fighter, Jon had heard about the man from tales his uncle Benjen had often spoke of when he had come to visit in Winterfell. When the Old Bear decreed that the Halfhand would lead a ranging, Jon had immediately volunteered himself to go with the Halfhand. He still secretly harboured ambitions about being a ranger and so wished to learn all he could, and besides he had told himself the Old Bear wouldn't have need of him at the Fist; no he would just get in the way. Perhaps he could help the Halfhand find out more with the help of Ghost.

The Old Bear had agreed to let him go with the Halfhand, and so they had left that same day to go further north of the wall to find out what they could about the Wildlings and the White Walkers. They walked many a mile through the barren lands, and found many a wildling village empty, thus confirming the rumours they had heard first in Craster's Keep, it did seem that the Wildlings were gathering in the Frostfangs. It was in one of those deserted villages that Jon stumbled upon three wildlings sleeping by a fire, two males and a female with auburn hair. He killed the two men, but could not bring himself to kill the female, and instead allowed her to go. Though later he took her as a prisoner when he and the Halfhand stumbled upon her once more, though she had led them into a trap, for they found themselves surrounded by wildlings that it appeared were led by a fierce one known as Rattleshirt, though the man himself was not present.

The Halfhand had told Jon before they had gone to follow the wildling woman- who Jon now knew was called Ygritte- that he must do anything that was asked of him by the Wildlings, the Halfhand told Jon that he needed to get their trust, he needed to find out what they were planning and when he next had the chance he had to return to the Fist to alert the Old Bear. So when the wildlings told him to fight the Halfhand to prove that he wanted to join them, he did. He fought the Halfhand and because of Ghost managed to kill him, he felt something inside of him break then, he was breaking his vows. Though when he was brought before the wildling king Mance Rayder, he continued to follow the act that the Halfhand had told him to follow.

He swore that he had abandoned the Watch and was only looking for somewhere to call home. Mance accepted and welcomed him in, and then as they continued their march further south, Jon learnt more about what the Wildlings were planning and why they had amassed themselves in such large numbers. They were fleeing south from the White Walkers and the wights that had stalked them from the Lands of Always Winter. Jon tried to keep any inhibitions he had about what he was doing to a minimum, he kept repeating the words that the Halfhand had told him, _do what they tell you to, build their trust, learn their secrets, and do it for the Watch. _However, it got increasingly harder to keep to those words with Ygritte always following him about and trying to sneak into his furs at night. He had broken his vows in one way; he had been determined not to break them in another.

That hadn't worked. Ygritte's persistence had eventually worn him down, and one day when they stopped and wandered around a cave where Gendel's Children were supposedly buried they made love, and every night since then they had slept together, and though Jon kept trying to tell himself what he was doing was wrong, he couldn't help it. He was scared that he was beginning to fall in love with Ygritte, the more he got to know her, the fonder he grew of her.

Then they had come to the Fist, and Jon had been expecting to see the might of the Watch there ready and waiting, and instead what he found was corpses, the corpses of the men he had ridden with as the ranging began. He had been forced to cough up what he knew of the ranging then. He had told Mance what he knew, though he minced the information together so that neither Mance nor any of the either wildlings had any true idea of the strength of the Watch. Mance had sent Jon to scale the Wall with Ygritte and several other wildlings, and so scale it they did. They came up several miles east of Castle Black, perhaps even several miles east of Eastwatch and they kept going south, further and further south, until they got to Queenscrown

By then Jon had become more and wearier of what he was doing. Ygritte was in love with him and therefore didn't pick up on his suspicions, but the Magnar Styr did. The man watched Jon with eagle eyes, both literally and figuratively. Jon could feel the tension beginning to build within him the closer they got to Castle Black. The final straw had been when they had stopped at a nearby village where an old man was staying. The Magnar demanded that Jon kill the old man to prove his loyalty to the wildling cause, and Jon hesitated but then Ygritte came and killed the man. Jon tried to leave but the Magnar refused to let him go, they broke out into a sword fight, which ended with Bran's direwolf- Jon was certain of it- came leaping out of nowhere to kill two of the wildlings that were trying to attack Jon.

Jon took advantage of that and got onto the horse that the old man had left behind, he could hear Ygritte screaming his name, but he kicked his feet into the horse's sides and spurred it on, but before he got very far he felt an arrow pierce his leg. He rode hard ignoring the growing pain in his leg because of the arrow stuck there, until he got to Castle Black's gates and passed out in front of them. When he woke he was in Maester Aemon's room being tended to, his leg throbbed with pain. He tried to speak but he was given milk of the poppy and told to rest.

When he did finally manage to wake long enough to speak coherently he told Maester Aemon and Donal Noye of the looming wildling threat, and told them of how the Halfhand had instructed him to do whatever it took to learn more information, and that the Lord Commander would need to be notified, as would Winterfell.

Maester Aemon looked at him with sadness in his eyes. "Jon," he said not unkindly. "Lord Commander Mormont was killed by traitors on the march back from the First Men."

Jon swallowed. Aemon went on. "Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell by deceit and treachery, and put your cousins to the sword, and mounted their heads above the walls of Winterfell. It has fallen." Jon stared at Maester Aemon not wanting to believe the words he spoke, but knowing deep down that they were true, he felt his heart break into a million tiny pieces, and felt it clench painfully when Maester Aemon went on and said. "There was also a letter from Starfall for you. It's about your sister."


	8. She

Parts in Italics are from the book A clash of kings, being used as flash backs in this instance. Let me know what you think :)

* * *

**Danaerys**

Danaerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had been through much in her relatively short life. She had been born on the island of Dragonstone during one of the fiercest storms to ever grace Westeros during the tail end of the War of the Usurper. The storm had destroyed most of her father's fleet, but there had been perhaps two ships left and one of those ships had been the one to transport herself, her brother Viserys and Ser Willam Darry to Bravos. They had stayed in Bravos until Ser Willam had died, then the servants in the house with the red door had kicked them out, and she and her brother had wandered from city to city, looking for somewhere to stay. Often the nobles of the city would allow them some lodgings for a time, she knew now that they had done that not out of the goodness of their hearts but because she and Viserys had been viewed as some sort of entertainment, the last two heir of a Great Family. That view had provided warmth and shelter for them for a few years, until it waned, and soon they were kicked out of the places where they once were welcome guests, and Viserys was forced to sell many of the possessions they had, including their mother's crown. It was this she thought that had finally driven Viserys mad, he had been so sweet and caring when they had been young, she knew it couldn't have been easy for him having to find a way to provide for them both but also swallow his pride. It had made him bitter and angry, and he had taken it out on her.

Then they had come to Pentos. Viserys had told her that a powerful man with connections in Westeros would be providing shelter for them from now on. That man had been Magister Illyrio Mopatis, the magister was a big man with an even bigger belly, he had regaled them with stories about how in his youth he had been one of the finest swordsmen in Essos, but the years had turned his muscle to fat, and he had a silvery beard to disguise the many chins he undoubtedly had. Viserys had spent the time they were in Pentos plotting and scheming with the magister, plotting how to win back the Iron Throne, which was his by rights, as the last remaining male heir of their father and brother. Illyrio had whispered in her brother's ear that the people of the Seven Kingdoms hungered for his return from exile, that they drank secret toasts to his health, and prayed for the day that he would return. She saw how that inflated her brother's ego, how he hungered more for the throne each and every day. Then the magister had told Viserys that if he truly wished to win the Iron Throne, he would need an army, not just any army though, a Dothraki army. The price, her maidenhead. And so she had been sold to the Khal with the biggest Khalasar, Khal Drogo.

She had been terrified the day of her wedding. Khal Drogo and the Dothraki had seemed like savages to her, the type she had heard of as a child wandering the free cities. Her brother though paid no heed to her worries, and so she put on a brave front and wed Khal Drogo. She and Drogo had at first been like strangers to one another, the only time she saw him had been at night when he would enter their tent and take her from behind and claim his right. Eventually she had plucked up the courage to ask how to please him from one of her handmaidens, then things had changed. She knew how to please him, and soon she found that the coupling began to please her as well, she started learning Dothraki, to become better acquainted with her people, and as they made their way toward Vaes Dothrak, where she would be presented, herself and Drogo grew closer and closer, and she had become pregnant with their babe. Viserys though had grown increasingly impatient. He wanted an army, and he wanted one immediately. He was mocked by the Dothraki, he was mocked by her husband, and the fear that she had felt of him as a girl gradually began to disappear the more time she spent with her sun and stars.

When they had arrived at Vaes Dothrak, the old crones had decreed that her child- whom she had decided to name Rhaego- would be the Stallion that mounted the world, an ancient hero from Dothraki lore who would be the khal of khals. Viserys had snapped, he had tried to steal her eggs, he had tried to kill her babe, and so Drogo crowned him, not with iron and bronze, but with molten gold. She did not mourn her brother, not as he had been when he had died, the man he had been when he had died was cruel and mad, she mourned the boy he had been, the sweet and caring boy, who had told her stories of Westeros and their family. Once her brother had been buried in the sands of Vaes Dothrak, they moved onward raiding and pillaging in the east, Drogo had as such lost interest in going to Westeros, and for a time so had Dany, she had been happy to get to know her husband even further and to build up more of her confidence. But then her dreams forced her to urge her sun and stars that the path, the only path they should be taking was the one that would lead them to Westeros and to the Iron Throne. Drogo had been stubborn and refused to contemplate such a thing, until an assassin had been sent by the usurper to try and kill her and her unborn babe. Then her sun and stars had sworn revenge on the Usurper and promised to seat Rhaego on the Iron Throne.

And so the raiding and pillaging had continued, they rode further and further east, taking slaves where the cities and villages they past did not pay tribute, and taking gold and more from the places that did pay tribute. During one such raid her sun and stars received a fatal wound, and the wound festered. Ser Jorah- her bear- told her that her position with the Khalasar depended on Drogo, but that was not the only reason why she had begged Mirri Maz Durr to save her sun and stars, she had lost so much already, she did not think she could stand to lose even more. The maegi performed a blood magic ritual which she had ensured Dany would bring her sun and stars back to her, but Dany had gone into labour whilst the ritual was being performed and so her bear had carried her into the tent, and when she had awoken several days later it was to find that her babe had been stillborn, a creature not a babe, and her sun and stars was a pale husk of a man, an empty shell. The Khalasar began to fragment, in an attempt to spare herself and her sun and stars from more pain, Dany had smothered Drogo with a pillow, and then mounted his body on a pyre along with the maegi's and then with the three eggs she had been given as a wedding gift walked onto the burning pyre, and emerged unharmed but for some her hair singed and her eyebrows burnt off, she emerged with three dragons on her shoulders. Drogon a black dragon, Rhaegal a green dragon and Viserion a pale white dragon.

They rode through the red waste for many days and nights, the days and nights turned into weeks, and began to feel like months and years. Eventually some of her scouts had returned from their mission with three emissaries from the city of Qarth, Xaro Xhaon Daxos, Pyat Pyree and Quaithe. They led her to Qarth, where she and her remaining Khalasar stayed in the manse of Xaro Daxos as "honoured guests" Dany spent her time there trying to convince the nobles of Qarth to help fund her journey back to Westeros, promising them handsome rewards once she had reclaimed the Iron Throne, but it had soon become clear that all they truly wanted was her dragons, when Drogon had gone missing from where she had kept him in Xaro's manse. Her enquiries had led her to the House of the Undying the true rulers of Qarth, in the House of the Undying she had seen many visions, some had made her weep with sadness, others had been plain terrifying, but it was obvious to her now that these visions were events from the past, present and future. She saw the wedding of two people- a man and a woman- who looked exactly like her, she saw the birth of her brother Rhaegar, she saw flames consume a great castle, she saw her brother with his wife cradling a babe speaking of prophecy, she saw the same brother slain on the Trident rubies falling from his chest, she saw a room in the desert covered with ice, blue roses falling down and blood everywhere, she saw a black dragon emerge from the sea coated in red, she saw a griffin crying as a boy took his first steps and said his first word, and she saw an egg red as blood with golden flecks and black whorls, and watched as the egg hatched and a fiery dragon emerged with eyes as dark as night, and then she heard the voices of the undying whispering in tantalising voice, saying she would ride three mounts, light three fires, and know three betrayals. Then the Undying had tried to kill her, but with Drogon's help she had killed the Undying and burnt their manse down.

That had driven herself and her fragile Khalasar out of Qarth but not before learning of the Usurper Robert Baratheon's death and the war that was still engulfing the Seven Kingdoms. She took her Khalasar and her dragons to the docks of Qarth looking for a ship to take them wherever they might go, but a sorrowful man had tried to kill her, the man had barely moved when an old man who had been following her killed the man, and presented himself as Arstan Whitebeard and his big giant of a companion as Strong Belwas, Whitebeard said that he had been sent by Illyrio to bring her back to Pentos with three ships and so she had boarded the ships with her Khalasar and her dragons, but following the advice of her bear had decided that instead of heading to Pentos she would go east to Astapor and buy herself an army.

On the voyage to Astapor she took the time to learn more about Arstan Whitebeard and her home. She learnt that Arstan had once fought alongside her brother Rhaegar, and so she had bombarded the man with questions about her eldest brother, who had died before she was born. From what she heard Arstan say of her brother, Dany deduced that he had been a kind and noble man, who had fallen in love with the Stark Girl, and so had helped free her from a burden to which she had not asked to be put under. The usurper in his rage and arrogance, had dared to challenge her brother, for what he saw as rightfully his, and her brother had paid the price for daring to dream. That had simply enflamed her hatred of the usurper and his dogs, and she swore a silent vow to herself that she would make them all pay when she landed in Westeros.

Also on the voyage she had learnt one other important thing. Her bear confessed his love for her, and kissed her. Dany had been so startled by the act that she had not known what to truly do, what her bear had done was inappropriate, she was his queen, he merely an advisor. She had not spoken of the event to him or anyone else, but to sate the increasing loneliness she had felt since Drogo's death she took Irri to her bed as a lover, but even the gentle caresses and kisses they shared could not sate the hunger she felt stirring within herself. She had debated with herself over perhaps taking her bear up on his offer and making him her love, but decided against it would do no good to have her advisor as her lover, no good at all.

They landed in Astapor to purchase Unsullied to help build her army, and Dany had been shocked by the level of hardship that some of the people in the city faced. Poverty, famine and death seemed to be the constant companions of the simple folk and the slaves, and the wealthy of the city dined on wine and the finest delicacies the east had to offer behind their high walls and their gold. The man who sold her the unsullied was rude and an insolent pig Dany thought. He once more took a liking to her dragons, and she agreed rather reluctantly to give him Drogon in exchange for the unsullied, but of course the man thought she knew not the language he spoke, but her time wandering the free cities with her brother had taught some high valyrian, and so she had understood the words and the insults that the man had spoken to Missandei who was now her helper, and so when the unsullied became hers, she commanded them to betray their once masters and she had Drogon burn those men who did not die by unsullied weapons. She freed the unsullied from their slavery, and then she sacked Astapor, freeing the slaves and declaring them freed men and women and children, the slaves then revolted against their previous owners, and killed them.

Yunkai was the next city in her path; the city was old and prosperous and had paid for the services of two sellsword companies, the Second Sons and the Stormcrows. Dany marched her unsullied to the gates and treated with the captains of both sellsword companies. The Stormcrows she won over when Daario Naharis one of the captains killed his fellow commanders and gave her the allegiance of his company, the Second Sons she got drunk one wine from Qarth, and attacked them in the night whilst they were drunk or asleep. The butchery that followed made her stomach uneasy, but she knew she had no choice if she wished to regain the Iron Throne she would not be able to do it through parleying all the time. The city of Yunkai yielded though once it became clear that they would be crushed should the fighting continued, and so they gave into her demands. The slaves of Yunkai were freed and joined her ever growing army, though the wise masters remained in control of the city.

Then as they approached Meeren, the first or was it the second- she was not sure- of her betrayals came true. The Titan's Bastard tried to kill her and Arstan Whitebeard killed the man, and then revealed to her that he was none other than Ser Barristan the bold, the man who had served her father in his Kingsguard and had fought alongside her brother Rhaegar on the Trident, but had also served the Usurper on his Kingsguard. Dany had been furious when she had learnt that, and had demanded of Ser Barristan what had brought him here to Essos, to her service, why now after so many years was he serving her? The old man had gotten down on one knee and had begged for her forgiveness and said that he regretted ever serving the usurper, but that the need for secrecy so far had merely been a precaution on his part as he waited to see whether she had been as mad as her father. She had bristled at that and had nearly been about to call for his head when he pointed out that her bear had also been spying on her, had reported her every move since he had joined her to the Spider, the man who served on the usurper's court, it was his whisperings that had allowed the assassin to find her.

She had been wroth then and demanded that they leave her side. She had sent them deep into the sewers of Meeren, to take the city unawares, whilst secretly hoping both men would die during the attack. They were successful though, and managed to free the slaves kept in the fighting pits as well as opening the gates. That had allowed her unsullied to ride in and take the city, the slaves she had freed from Astapor and Yunkai marched into the city and began looting and killing whomever they came across, the slaves in Meeren fought back initially but then began helping their fellow slaves. Meeren had fallen and with it had the last echoes of slavery in Slaver's Bay. Dany had taken the Great Pyramid as her seat, and so it was that the morning following the taking of Meeren she found herself sitting on a long back chair- a makeshift throne- and waited for Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah to be brought before her.

Though she was still angry with both of them, they had done well and Ser Jorah had served her faithfully, he claimed he loved her, if he was willing to beg forgiveness and admit to his wrongdoing she would forgive him. Whether or not the same could be said for Ser Barristan she knew not. "Bring them in." She said to Aggo.

She heard jostling and some cursing and soon she saw Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah kneeling before her. She looked upon them coldly. "I thank you for doing what you did yesterday in helping me take this city," Ser Jorah looked up at her, hope shining in his eyes, she felt her heart beginning to tighten. "But I have not forgotten your lies, your treason."

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah began, but he stopped when Dany raised her hand silencing him.

"You both lied to me. You did not tell me your true name nor purpose here Ser Barristan. That makes it hard for me to truly believe that you are contrite and sincere in your reasoning. And You Ser Jorah, you who have been with me since Pentos. You whom I would have taken with me as a victor back to Westeros, you betrayed me for coin? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

She heard Ser Barristan swallow before he opened his mouth to speak. "Your Grace, I admit that what I did was wrong. I regret bending the knee to Robert Baratheon now. The man was a fine warrior but a terrible king. I should have gone and sought your brother and yourself much earlier than I did, you should have not been left to fend for yourselves for as long as you did. I failed in my duty to your family, and I beg your forgiveness. However, I understand if you do not wish to keep me by your side, and I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit for me." He bowed his head once he had finished speaking.

Ser Jorah snorted then and said boldly. "Khaleesi, I have known you since Pentos when you were no more than a frightened little girl. I have seen you grow into a powerful and attractive woman; you are capable of so much greatness. I admit that I did report your movements for a time to the Spider, for gold yes, but for a chance to go home. I know it was wrong, and I stopped long before Drogo died. I swear to you, I have not written to the Usurper or his family since we marched for Vaes Dothrak."

Dany looked at both men, and saw in their eyes that they meant what they said. She felt something stirring within her, she felt differing emotions warring inside her, these two men swore that they would protect her through thick and thin, but they had both betrayed her at some point she needed to set an example otherwise she would never know who to trust and who not to. She sighed, and looked at both men. "Stand," she said. "I have heard your explanations. You have both betrayed me, but you have slightly redeemed yourselves in my eyes with your acts last night. Know this though, the dragon does not forget, nor will I forgive so easily the next time. You may both stay, but should I catch a whiff of betrayal from either of you again, I will feed you to my dragons."

Both men bowed and said their thanks. Dany sighed internally; it was going to be a long day now.

* * *

**Sansa**

There were two memories Sansa had of her time in King's Landing since her father's death. The first was of the tourney for Joffrey's name day:

_The morning of King Joffrey's name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. "What do you think it means?" she asked him._

_"Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. "See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace's name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey's Comet."_

_Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. "I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."_

_"King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son," Ser Arys said. "He is the dragon's heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey's ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies."_

_Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey's enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king's command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The cometwas red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn't the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?_

_Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said._

_"Thank you, ser." Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her._

_"Shall we go?" Ser Arys offered his arm and she let him lead her from her chamber. If she must have one of the Kingsguard dogging her steps, Sansa preferred that it be him. Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon's strange dead eyes made her uneasy, while Ser Preston treated her like a lackwit child. Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued. The others obeyed without question . . . except for the Hound, but Joff never asked the Hound to punish her. He used the other five for that._

_Ser Arys had light brown hair and a face that was not unpleasant to look upon. Today he made quite the dashing figure, with his white silk cloak fastened at the shoulder by a golden leaf, and a spreading oak tree worked upon the breast of his tunic in shining gold thread. "Who do you think will win the day's honors?" Sansa asked as they descended the steps arm in arm._

_"I will," Ser Arys answered, smiling. "Yet I fear the triumph will have no savor. This will be a small field, and poor. No more than two score will enter the lists, including squires and freeriders. There is small honor in unhorsing green boys."_

_The last tourney had been different, Sansa reflected. King Robert had staged it in her father's honor. High lords and fabled champions had come from all over the realm to compete, and the whole city had turned out to watch. She remembered the splendor of it: the field of pavilions along the river with a knight's shield hung before each door, the long rows of silken pennants waving in the wind, the gleam of sunlight on bright steel and gilded spurs. The days had rung to the sounds of trumpets and pounding hooves, and the nights had been full of feasts and song. Those had been the most magical days of her life, but they seemed a memory from another age now. Robert Baratheon was dead, and her father as well, beheaded for a traitor on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. Now there were three kings in the land, and war raged beyond the Trident while the city filled with desperate men. Small wonder that they had to hold Joff's tournament behind the thick stone walls of the Red Keep._

_"Will the queen attend, do you think?" Sansa always felt safer when Cersei was there to restrain her son._

_"I fear not, my lady. The council is meeting, some urgent business." Ser Arys dropped his voice. "Lord Tywin has gone to ground at Harrenhal instead of bringing his army to the city as the queen commanded. Her Grace is furious." He fell silent as a column of Lannister guardsmen marched past, in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Ser Arys was fond of gossip, but only when he was certain that no one was listening._

_The carpenters had erected a gallery and lists in the outer bailey. It was a poor thing indeed, and the meager throng that had gathered to watch filled but half the seats. Most of the spectators were guardsmen in the gold cloaks of the City Watch or the crimson of House Lannister; of lords and ladies there were but a paltry few, the handful that remained at court. Grey-faced Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing into a square of pink silk. Lady Tanda was bracketed by her daughters, placid dull Lollys and acid-tongued Falyse. Ebon-skinned Jalabhar Xho was an exile who had no other refuge, Lady Ermesande a babe seated on her wet nurse's lap. The talk was she would soon be wed to one of the queen's cousins, so the Lannisters might claim her lands._

_The king was shaded beneath a crimson canopy, one leg thrown negligently over the carved wooden arm of his chair. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen sat behind him. In the back of the royal box, Sandor Clegane stood at guard, his hands resting on his swordbelt. The white cloak of the Kingsguard was draped over his broad shoulders and fastened with a jeweled brooch, the snowy cloth looking somehow unnatural against his brown roughspun tunic and studded leather jerkin. "Lady Sansa," the Hound announced curtly when he saw her. His voice was as rough as the sound of a saw on wood. The burn scars on his face and throat made one side of his mouth twitch when he spoke._

_Princess Myrcella nodded a shy greeting at the sound of Sansa's name, but plump little Prince Tommen jumped up eagerly. "Sansa, did you hear? I'm to ride in the tourney today. Mother said I could." Tommen was all of eight. He reminded her of her own little brother, Bran. They were of an age. Bran was back at Winterfell, a cripple, yet safe._

_Sansa would have given anything to be with him. "I fear for the life of your foeman," she told Tommen solemnly._

_"His foeman will be stuffed with straw," Joff said as he rose. The king was clad in a gilded breastplate with a roaring lion engraved upon its chest, as if he expected the war to engulf them at any moment. He was thirteen today, and tall for his age, with the green eyes and golden hair of the Lannisters._

_"Your Grace," she said, dipping in a curtsy._

_Ser Arys bowed. "Pray pardon me, Your Grace. I must equip myself for the lists."_

_Joffrey waved a curt dismissal while he studied Sansa from head to heels. "I'm pleased you wore my stones."_

_So the king had decided to play the gallant today. Sansa was relieved. "I thank you for them . . . and for your tender words. I pray you a lucky name day, Your Grace."_

_"Sit," Joff commanded, gesturing her to the empty seat beside his own. "Have you heard? The Beggar King is dead."_

_"Who?" For a moment Sansa was afraid he meant Robb._

_"Viserys. The last son of Mad King Aerys. He's been going about the Free Cities since before I was born, calling himself a king. Well, Mother says the Dothraki finally crowned him. With molten gold." He laughed. "That's funny, don't you think? The dragon was their sigil. It's almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I'll feed him to wolves after I've caught him. Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"_

_"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him. "Will you enter the lists today?" she asked quickly._

_The king frowned. "My lady mother said it was not fitting, since the tourney is in my honor. Otherwise I would have been champion. Isn't that so, dog?"_

_The Hound's mouth twitched. "Against this lot? Why not?"_

_He had been the champion in her father's tourney, Sansa remembered. "Will you joust today, my lord?" she asked him._

_Clegane's voice was thick with contempt. "Wouldn't be worth the bother of arming myself. This is a tournament of gnats."_

_The king laughed. "My dog has a fierce bark. Perhaps I should command him to fight the day's champion. To the death." Joffrey was fond of making men fight to the death._

_"You'd be one knight the poorer." The Hound had never taken a knight's vows. His brother was a knight, and he hated his brother._

_A blare of trumpets sounded. The king settled back in his seat and took Sansa's hand. Once that would have set her heart to pounding, but that was before he had answered her plea for mercy by presenting her with her father's head. His touch filled her with revulsion now, but she knew better than to show it. She made herself sit very still._

_"Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard," a herald called._

_Ser Meryn entered from the west side of the yard, clad in gleaming white plate chased with gold and mounted on a milk-white charger with a flowing grey mane. His cloak streamed behind him like a field of snow. He carried a twelve-foot lance._

_"Ser Hobber of House Redwyne, of the Arbor," the herald sang. Ser Hobber trotted in from the east, riding a black stallion caparisoned in burgundy and blue. His lance was striped in the same colors, and his shield bore the grape cluster sigil of his House. The Redwyne twins were the queen's unwilling guests, even as Sansa was. She wondered whose notion it had been for them to ride in Joffrey's tourney. Not their own, she thought._

_At a signal from the master of revels, the combatants couched their lances and put their spurs to their mounts. There were shouts from the watching guardsmen and the lords and ladies in the gallery. The knights came together in the center of the yard with a great shock of wood and steel. The white lance and the striped one exploded in splinters within a second of each other. Hobber Redwyne reeled at the impact, yet somehow managed to keep his seat. Wheeling their horses about at the far end of the lists, the knights tossed down their broken lances and accepted replacements from the squires. Ser Horas Redwyne, Ser Hobber's twin, shouted encouragement to his brother._

_But on their second pass Ser Meryn swung the point of his lance to strike Ser Hobber in the chest, driving him from the saddle to crash resoundingly to the earth. Ser Horas cursed and ran out to help his battered brother from the field._

_"Poorly ridden," declared King Joffrey._

_"Ser Balon Swann, of Stonehelm in the Red Watch," came the herald's cry. Wide white wings ornamented Ser Balon's greathelm, and black and white swans fought on his shield. "Morros of House Slynt, heir to Lord Janos of Harrenhal."_

_"Look at that upjumped oaf," Joff hooted, loud enough for half the yard to hear. Morros, a mere squire and a new-made squire at that, was having difficulty managing lance and shield. The lance was a knight's weapon, Sansa knew, the Slynts lowborn. Lord Janos had been no more than commander of the City Watch before Joffrey had raised him to Harrenhal and the council._

_I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. When Joffrey proclaimed her father's death, it had been Janos Slynt who seized Lord Eddard's severed head by the hair and raised it on high for king and crowd to behold, while Sansa wept and screamed._

_Morros wore a checkered black-and-gold cloak over black armor inlaid with golden scrollwork. On his shield was the bloody spear his father had chosen as the sigil of their new-made house. But he did not seem to know what to do with the shield as he urged his horse forward, and Ser Balon's point struck the blazon square. Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer. But when they disentangled Morros Slynt from his horse, they found him bloodied but alive. "Tommen, we picked the wrong foe for you," the king told his brother. "The straw knight jousts better than that one."_

_Next came Ser Horas Redwyne's turn. He fared better than his twin, vanquishing an elderly knight whose mount was bedecked with silver griffins against a striped blue-and-white field. Splendid as he looked, the old man made a poor contest of it. Joffrey curled his lip. "This is a feeble show."_

_"I warned you," said the Hound. "Gnats."_

_The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon's mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages._

_"Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish," cried the herald. "Ser Dontos the Red, of House Hollard. "_

_The freerider, a small man in dented plate without device, duly appeared at the west end of the yard, but of his opponent there was no sign. Finally a chestnut stallion trotted into view in a swirl of crimson and scarlet silks, but Ser Dontos was not on it. The knight appeared a moment later, cursing and staggering, clad in breastplate and plumed helm and nothing else. His legs were pale and skinny, and his manhood flopped about obscenely as he chased after his horse. The watchers roared and shouted insults. Catching his horse by the bridle, Ser Dontos tried to mount, but the animal would not stand still and the knight was so drunk that his bare foot kept missing the stirrup._

_By then the crowd was howling with laughter . . . all but the king. Joffrey had a look in his eyes that Sansa remembered well, the same look he'd had at the Great Sept of Baelor the day he pronounced death on Lord Eddard Stark. Finally Ser Dontos the Red gave it up for a bad job, sat down in the dirt, and removed his plumed helm. "I lose," he shouted. "Fetch me some wine."_

_The king stood. "A cask from the cellars! I'll see him drowned in it."_

_Sansa heard herself gasp. "No, you can't."_

_Joffrey turned his head. "What did you say?"_

_Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn't meant to say anything, only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm._

_"Did you say I can't? Did you?"_

_"Please," Sansa said, "I only meant . . . it would be ill luck, Your Grace . . . to, to kill a man on your name day."_

_"You're lying," Joffrey said. "I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much."_

_"I don't care for him, Your Grace." The words tumbled out desperately. "Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not on your name day. I couldn't bear for you to have ill luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so . . . "_

_Joffrey scowled. He knew she was lying, she could see it. He would make her bleed for this._

_"The girl speaks truly," the Hound rasped. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year." His voice was flat, as if he did not care a whit whether the king believed him or no. Could it be true? Sansa had not known. It was just something she'd said, desperate to avoid punishment._

_Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. "Take him away. I'll have him killed on the morrow, the fool."_

_"He is," Sansa said. "A fool. You're so clever, to see it. He's better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn't he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."_

_The king studied her a moment. "Perhaps you're not so stupid as Mother says." He raised his voice. "Did you hear my lady, Dontos? From this day on, you're my new fool. You can sleep with Moon Boy and dress in motley."_

_Ser Dontos, sobered by his near brush with death, crawled to his knees. "Thank you, Your Grace. And you, my lady. Thank you."_

_As a brace of Lannister guardsmen led him off, the master of revels approached the box. "Your Grace," he said, "shall I summon a new challenger for Brune, or proceed with the next tilt?"_

_"Neither. These are gnats, not knights. I'd have them all put to death, only it's my name day. The tourney is done. Get them all out of my sight."_

_The master of revels bowed, but Prince Tommen was not so obedient. "I'm supposed to ride against the straw man."_

_"Not today."_

_"But I want to ride!"_

_"I don't care what you want."_

_"Mother said I could ride."_

_"She said," Princess Myrcella agreed._

_"Mother said," mocked the king. "Don't be childish."_

_"We're children," Myrcella declared haughtily. "We're supposed to be childish."_

_The Hound laughed. "She has you there."_

_Joffrey was beaten. "Very well. Even my brother couldn't tilt any worse than these others. Master, bring out the quintain, Tommen wants to be a gnat."_

_Tommen gave a shout of joy and ran off to be readied, his chubby little legs pumping hard. "Luck," Sansa called to him._

_They set up the quintain at the far end of the lists while the prince's pony was being saddled. Tommen's opponent was a child-sized leather warrior stuffed with straw and mounted on a pivot, with a shield in one hand and a padded mace in the other. Someone had fastened a pair of antlers to the knight's head. Joffrey's father King Robert had worn antlers on his helm, Sansa remembered . . . but so did his uncle Lord Renly, Robert's brother, who had turned traitor and crowned himself king._

_A pair of squires buckled the prince into his ornate silver-and-crimson armor. A tall plume of red feathers sprouted from the crest of his helm, and the lion of Lannister and crowned stag of Baratheon frolicked together on his shield. The squires helped him mount, and Ser Aron Santagar, the Red Keep's master-at-arms, stepped forward and handed Tommen a blunted silver longsword with a leaf-shaped blade, crafted to fit an eight-year-old hand._

_Tommen raised the blade high. "Casterly Rock!" he shouted in a high boyish voice as he put his heels into his pony and started across the hard-packed dirt at the quintain. Lady Tanda and Lord Gyles started a ragged cheer, and Sansa added her voice to theirs. The king brooded in silence._

_Tommen got his pony up to a brisk trot, waved his sword vigorously, and struck the knight's shield a solid blow as he went by. The quintain spun, the padded mace flying around to give the prince a mighty whack in the back of his head. Tommen spilled from the saddle, his new armor rattling like a bag of old pots as he hit the ground. His sword went flying, his pony cantered away across the bailey, and a great gale of derision went up. King Joffrey laughed longest and loudest of all._

_"Oh," Princess Myrcella cried. She scrambled out of the box and ran to her little brother._

_Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. "You should go with her," she told the king. "Your brother might be hurt."_

_Joffrey shrugged. "What if he is?"_

_"You should help him up and tell him how well he rode." Sansa could not seem to stop herself._

_"He got knocked off his horse and fell in the dirt," the king pointed out. "That's not riding well."_

_"Look," the Hound interrupted. "The boy has courage. He's going to try again."_

_They were helping Prince Tommen mount his pony. If only Tommen were the elder instead of Joffrey, Sansa thought. I wouldn't mind marrying Tommen._

_The sounds from the gatehouse took them by surprise. Chains rattled as the portcullis was drawn upward, and the great gates opened to the creak of iron hinges. "Who told them to open the gate?" Joff demanded. With the troubles in the city, the gates of the Red Keep had been closed for days._

_A column of riders emerged from beneath the portcullis with a clink of steel and a clatter of hooves. Clegane stepped close to the king, one hand on the hilt of his longsword. The visitors were dinted and haggard and dusty, yet the standard they carried was the lion of Lannister, golden on its crimson field. A few wore the red cloaks and mail of Lannister men-at-arms, but more were freeriders and sellswords, armored in oddments and bristling with sharp steel . . . and there were others, monstrous savages out of one of Old Nan's tales, the scary ones Bran used to love. They were clad in shabby skins and boiled leather, with long hair and fierce beards. Some wore bloodstained bandages over their brows or wrapped around their hands, and others were missing eyes, ears, and fingers._

_In their midst, riding on a tall red horse in a strange high saddle that cradled him back and front, was the queen's dwarf brother Tyrion Lannister, the one they called the Imp. He had let his beard grow to cover his pushed-in face, until it was a bristly tangle of yellow and black hair, coarse as wire. Down his back flowed a shadowskin cloak, black fur striped with white. He held the reins in his left hand and carried his right arm in a white silk sling, but otherwise looked as grotesque as Sansa remembered from when he had visited Winterfell. With his bulging brow and mismatched eyes, he was still the ugliest man she had ever chanced to look upon._

_Yet Tommen put his spurs into his pony and galloped headlong across the yard, shouting with glee. One of the savages, a huge shambling man so hairy that his face was all but lost beneath his whiskers, scooped the boy out of his saddle, armor and all, and deposited him on the ground beside his uncle. Tommen's breathless laughter echoed off the walls as Tyrion clapped him on the backplate, and Sansa was startled to see that the two were of a height. Myrcella came running after her brother, and the dwarf picked her up by the waist and spun her in a circle, squealing._

_When he lowered her back to the ground, the little man kissed her lightly on the brow and came waddling across the yard toward Joffrey. Two of his men followed close behind him; a black-haired black-eyed sellsword who moved like a stalking cat, and a gaunt youth with an empty socket where one eye should have been. Tommen and Myrcella trailed after them._

_The dwarf went to one knee before the king. "Your Grace."_

_"You," Joffrey said._

_"Me," the Imp agreed, "although a more courteous greeting might be in order, for an uncle and an elder."_

_"They said you were dead," the Hound said._

_The little man gave the big one a look. One of his eyes was green, one was black, and both were cool. "I was speaking to the king, not to his cur."_

_"I'm glad you're not dead," said Princess Myrcella._

_"We share that view, sweet child." Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."_

_Sansa could not think of a word to say to him. How could he be sorry for her losses? Was he mocking her? It wasn't the gods who'd been cruel, it was Joffrey._

_"I am sorry for your loss as well, Joffrey," the dwarf said._

_"What loss?"_

_"Your royal father? A large fierce man with a black beard; you'll recall him if you try. He was king before you."_

_"Oh, him. Yes, it was very sad, a boar killed him."_

_"Is that what 'they' say, Your Grace?"_

_Joffrey frowned. Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady's armour is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord."_

_"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done, some may be a deal sorrier . . . yet I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where might I find your mother?"_

_"She's with my council," the king answered. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles." He gave Sansa an angry look, as if it were her fault. "He's been taken by the Starks and we've lost Riverrun and now her stupid brother is calling himself a king."_

_The dwarf smiled crookedly. "All sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days."_

_Joff did not know what to make of that, though he looked suspicious and out of sorts. "Yes. Well. I am pleased you're not dead, Uncle. Did you bring me a gift for my name day?"_

_"I did. My wits."_

_"I'd sooner have Robb Stark's head," Joff said with a sly glance at Sansa. "Tommen, Myrcella, come."_

_Sandor Clegane lingered behind a moment. "I'd guard that tongue of yours, little man," he warned, before he strode off after his liege._

_Sansa was left with the dwarf and his monsters. She tried to think of what else she might say. "You hurt your arm," she managed at last._

_"One of your northmen hit me with a morningstar during the battle on the Green Fork. I escaped him by falling off my horse." His grin turned into something softer as he studied her face. "Is it grief for your lord father that makes you so sad?"_

_"My father was a traitor," Sansa said at once. "And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well." That reflex she had learned quickly. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."_

_"No doubt. As loyal as a deer surrounded by wolves."_

_"Lions," she whispered, without thinking. She glanced about nervously, but there was no one close enough to hear._

_Lannister reached out and took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "I am only a little lion, child, and I vow, I shall not savage you." Bowing, he said "But now you must excuse me. I have urgent business with queen and council."_

_Sansa watched him walk off, his body swaying heavily from side to side with every step, like something from a grotesquerie. He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He's still a Lannister, her brother and Joff's uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again._

The second was the day after the Battle of the Blackwater when Lord Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells had come to be presented before the crown and court, to celebrate a hard earned victory.

_The throne room was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics. Lords and ladies filled the back of the hall and stood beneath the high windows, jostling like fishwives on a dock._

_The denizens of Joffrey's court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. The High Septon's crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth-of-gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade. Moon Boy and Ser Dontos wore new suits of motley, clean as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown._

_Squirming through a press of knights, squires, and rich townfolk, Sansa reached the front of the gallery just as a blast of trumpets announced the entry of Lord Tywin Lannister._

_He rode his warhorse down the length of the hall and dismounted before the Iron Throne. Sansa had never seen such armor; all burnished red steel, inlaid with golden scrollwork and ornamentation. His rondels were sunbursts, the roaring lion that crowned his helm had ruby eyes, and a lioness on each shoulder fastened a cloth-of-gold cloak so long and heavy that it draped the hindquarters of his charger. Even the horse's armor was gilded, and his bardings were shimmering crimson silk emblazoned with the lion of Lannister._

_The Lord of Casterly Rock made such an impressive figure that it was a shock when his destrier dropped a load of dung right at the base of the throne. Joffrey had to step gingerly around it as he descended to embrace his grandfather and proclaim him Savior of the City. Sansa covered her mouth to hide a nervous smile._

_Joff made a show of asking his grandfather to assume governance of the realm, and Lord Tywin solemnly accepted the responsibility, "until Your Grace does come of age." Then squires removed his armor and Joff fastened the Hand's chain of office around his neck. Lord Tywin took a seat at the council table beside the queen. After the destrier was led off and his homage removed, Cersei nodded for the ceremonies to continue._

_A fanfare of brazen trumpets greeted each of the heroes as he stepped between the great oaken doors. Heralds cried his name and deeds for all to hear, and the noble knights and highborn ladies cheered as lustily as cutthroats at a cockfight. Pride of place was given to Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, a once-powerful man gone to fat, yet still handsome. His sons followed him in; Ser Loras and his older brother Ser Garlan the Gallant. The three dressed alike, in green velvet trimmed with sable._

_The king descended the throne once more to greet them, a great honor. He fastened about the throat of each a chain of roses wrought in soft yellow gold, from which hung a golden disc with the lion of Lannister picked out in rubies. "The roses support the lion, as the might of Highgarden supports the realm," proclaimed Joffrey. "If there is any boon you would ask of me, ask and it shall be yours."_

_And now it comes, thought Sansa._

_"Your Grace," said Ser Loras, "I beg the honor of serving in your Kingsguard, to defend you against your enemies."_

_Joffrey drew the Knight of Flowers to his feet and kissed him on his cheek. "Done, brother."_

_Lord Tyrell bowed his head. "There is no greater pleasure than to serve the King's Grace. If I was deemed worthy to join your royal council, you would find none more loyal or true."_

_Joff put a hand on Lord Tyrell's shoulder and kissed him when he stood. "Your wish is granted."_

_Ser Garlan Tyrell, five years senior to Ser Loras, was a taller bearded version of his more famous younger brother. He was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders, and though his face was comely enough, he lacked Ser Loras's startling beauty. "Your Grace," Garlan said when the king approached him, "I have a maiden sister, Margaery, the delight of our House. She was wed to Renly Baratheon, as you know, but Lord Renly went to war before the marriage could be consummated, so she remains innocent. Margaery has heard tales of your wisdom, courage, and chivalry, and has come to love you from afar. I beseech you to send for her, to take her hand in marriage, and to wed your House to mine for all time."_

_King Joffrey made a show of looking surprised. "Ser Garlan, your sister's beauty is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."_

_Queen Cersei got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. "Your Grace, in the judgment of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne even now. Sire, your councillors beg you, for the good of your realm, set Sansa Stark aside. The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen."_

_Like a pack of trained dogs, the lords and ladies in the hall began to shout their pleasure. "Margaery," they called. "Give us Margaery!" and "No traitor queens! Tyrell! Tyrell!"_

_Joffrey raised a hand. "I would like to heed the wishes of my people, Mother, but I took a holy vow."_

_The High Septon stepped forward. "Your Grace, the gods hold bethrothal solemn, but your father, King Robert of blessed memory, made this pact before the Starks of Winterfell had revealed their falseness. Their crimes against the realm have freed you from any promise you might have made. So far as the Faith is concerned, there is no valid marriage contract 'twixt you and Sansa Stark."_

_A tumult of cheering filled the throne room, and cries of "Margaery, Margaery" erupted all around her. Sansa leaned forward, her hands tight around the gallery's wooden rail. She knew what came next, but she was still frightened of what Joffrey might say, afraid that he would refuse to release her even now, when his whole kingdom depended upon it. She felt as if she were back again on the marble steps outside the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting for her prince to grant her father mercy, and instead hearing him command Ilyn Payne to strike off his head. Please, she prayed fervently, make him say it, make him say it._

_Lord Tywin was looking at his grandson. Joff gave him a sullen glance, shifted his feet, and helped Ser Garlan Tyrell to rise. "The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. I will wed your sweet sister, and gladly, ser." He kissed Ser Garlan on a bearded cheek as the cheers rose all around them._

_Sansa felt curiously light-headed. I am free. She could feel eyes upon her. I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her; no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. "I will not have my son humiliated," Cersei said. "Do you hear me?"_

_"Yes. But if I'm not to be queen, what will become of me?"_

_"That will need to be determined. For the moment, you shall remain here at court, as our ward."_

_"I want to go home."_

_The queen was irritated by that. "You should have learned by now, none of us get the things we want."_

_I have, though, Sansa thought. I am free of Joffrey. I will not have to kiss him, nor give him my maidenhood, nor bear him children. Let Margaery Tyrell have all that, poor girl._

_By the time the outburst died down, the Lord of Highgarden had been seated at the council table, and his sons had joined the other knights and lordlings beneath the windows. Sansa tried to look forlorn and abandoned as other heroes of the Battle of the Blackwater were summoned forth to receive their rewards._

_Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, marched down the length of the hall flanked by his twin sons Horror and Slobber, the former limping from a wound taken in the battle. After them followed Lord Mathis Rowan in a snowy doublet with a great tree worked upon the breast in gold thread; Lord Randyll Tarly, lean and balding, a greatsword across his back in a jeweled scabbard; Ser Kevan Lannister, a thickset balding man with a close-trimmed beard; Ser Addam Marbrand, coppery hair streaming to his shoulders; the great western lords Lydden, Crakehall, and Brax._

_Next came four of lesser birth who had distinguished themselves in the fighting: the one-eyed knight Ser Philip Foote, who had slain Lord Bryce Caron in single combat; the freerider Lothor Brune, who'd cut his way through half a hundred Fossoway men-at-arms to capture Ser Jon of the green apple and kill Ser Bryan and Ser Edwyd of the red, thereby winning himself the name Lothor Apple-Eater; Willit, a grizzled man-atarms in the service of Ser Harys Swyft, who'd pulled his master from beneath his dying horse and defended him against a dozen attackers; and a downy-cheeked squire named Josmyn Peckledon, who had killed two knights, wounded a third, and captured two more, though he could not have been more than fourteen. Willit was borne in on a litter, so grievous were his wounds._

_Ser Kevan had taken a seat beside his brother Lord Tywin. When the heralds had finished telling of each hero's deeds, he rose. "It is His Grace's wish that these good men be rewarded for their valor. By his decree, Ser Philip shall henceforth be Lord Philip of House Foote, and to him shall go all the lands, rights, and incomes of House Caron. Lothor Brune to be raised to the estate of knighthood, and granted land and keep in the riverlands at war's end. To Josmyn Peckledon, a sword and suit of plate, his choice of any warhorse in the royal stables, and knighthood as soon as he shall come of age. And lastly, for Goodman Willit, a spear with a silver-banded haft, a hauberk of new-forged ringmail, and a full helm with visor. Further, the goodman's sons shall be taken into the service of House Lannister at Casterly Rock, the elder as a squire and the younger as a page, with the chance to advance to knighthood if they serve loyally and well. To all this, the King's Hand and the small council consent."_

_The captains of the king's warships Wildwind, Prince Aemon, and River Arrow were honored next, along with some under officers from Godsgrace, Lance, Lady of Silk, and Ramshead. As near as Sansa could tell, their chief accomplishment had been surviving the battle on the river, a feat that few enough could boast. Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists' Guild received the king's thanks as well, and Hallyne was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister. Joffrey awarded him the lands, castle, and rights of House Darry, whose last child lord had perished during the fighting in the riverlands, "leaving no trueborn heirs of lawful Darry blood, but only a bastard cousin."_

_Ser Lancel did not appear to accept the title; the talk was, his wound might cost him his arm or even his life. The Imp was said to be dying as well, from a terrible cut to the head._

_When the herald called, "Lord Petyr Baelish," he came forth dressed all in shades of rose and plum, his cloak patterned with mockingbirds. She could see him smiling as he knelt before the Iron Throne. He looks so pleased. Sansa had not heard of Littlefinger doing anything especially heroic during the battle, but it seemed he was to be rewarded all the same._

_Ser Kevan got back to his feet. "It is the wish of the King's Grace that his loyal councillor Petyr Baelish be rewarded for faithful service to crown and realm. Be it known that Lord Baelish is granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes, there to make his seat and rule henceforth as Lord Paramount of the Trident. Petyr Baelish and his sons and grandsons shall hold and enjoy these honors until the end of time, and all the lords of the Trident shall do him homage as their rightful liege. The King's Hand and the small council consent."_

_On his knees, Littlefinger raised his eyes to King Joffrey. "I thank you humbly, Your Grace. I suppose this means I'll need to see about getting some sons and grandsons."_

_Joffrey laughed, and the court with him. Lord Paramount of the Trident, Sansa thought, and Lord of Harrenhal as well. She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He'll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must._

_More than six hundred new knights were made that day. They had held their vigil in the Great Sept of Baelor all through the night and crossed the city barefoot that morning to prove their humble hearts. Now they came forward dressed in shifts of undyed wool to receive their knighthoods from the Kingsguard. It took a long time, since only three of the Brothers of the White Sword were on hand to dub them. Mandon Moore had perished in the battle, the Hound had vanished, Aerys Oakheart was in Dorne with Princess Myrcella, and Jaime Lannister was Robb's captive, so the Kingsguard had been reduced to Balon Swann, Meryn Trant, and Osmund Kettleblack. Once knighted, each man rose, buckled on his swordbelt, and stood beneath the windows. Some had bloody feet from their walk through the city, but they stood tall and proud all the same, it seemed to Sansa._

_By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king's leave. Judging by the way he was fidgeting atop the Iron Throne, Joff would willingly have granted it, but the day's work was far from done. For now the coin was turned over, and the captives were ushered in._

_There were great lords and noble knights in that company too: sour old Lord Celtigar, the Red Crab; Ser Bonifer the Good; Lord Estermont, more ancient even than Celtigar; Lord Varner, who hobbled the length of the hall on a shattered knee, but would accept no help; Ser Mark Mullendore, grey-faced, his left arm gone to the elbow; fierce Red Ronnet of Griffin Roost; Ser Dermot of the Rainwood; Lord Willurn and his sons Josua and Elyas; Ser Jon Fossoway; Ser Timon the Scrapesword; Aurane, the bastard of Driftmark; Lord Staedmon, called Pennylover; hundreds of others._

_Those who had changed their allegiance during the battle needed only to swear fealty to Joffrey, but the ones who had fought for Stannis until the bitter end were compelled to speak. Their words decided their fate. If they begged forgiveness for their treasons and promised to serve loyally henceforth, Joffrey welcomed them back into the king's peace and restored them to all their lands and rights. A handful remained defiant, however. "Do not imagine this is done, boy," warned one, the bastard son of some Florent or other. "The Lord of Light protects King Stannis, now and always. All your swords and all your scheming shall not save you when his hour comes."_

_"Your hour is come right now." Joffrey beckoned to Ser Ilyn Payne to take the man out and strike his head off. But no sooner had that one been dragged away than a knight of solemn mien with a fiery heart on his surcoat shouted out, "Stannis is the true king! A monster sits the Iron Throne, an abomination born of incest!"_

_"Be silent," Ser Kevan Lannister bellowed._

_The knight raised his voice instead. "Joffrey is the black worm eating the heart of the realm! Darkness was his father, and death his mother! Destroy him before he corrupts you all! Destroy them all, queen whore and king worm, vile dwarf and whispering spider, the false flowers. Save yourselves!" One of the gold cloaks knocked the man off his feet, but he continued to shout. "The scouring fire will come! King Stannis will return! "_

_Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed._

_With every eye on the king, somehow the man on the floor wrested a spear away from one of the gold cloaks, and used it to push himself back to his feet. "The throne denies him!" he cried. "He is no king!"_

_Cersei was running toward the throne, but Lord Tywin remained still as stone. He had only to raise a finger, and Ser Meryn Trant moved forward with drawn sword. The end was quick and brutal. The gold cloaks seized the knight by the arms. "No king!" he cried again as Ser Meryn drove the point of his longsword through his chest._

_Joff fell into his mother's arms. Three maesters came hurrying forward, to bundle him out through the king's door. Then everyone began talking at once. When the gold cloaks dragged off the dead man, he left a trail of bright blood across the stone floor. Lord Baelish stroked his beard while Varys whispered in his ear. Will they dismiss us now? Sansa wondered. A score of captives still waited, though whether to pledge fealty or shout curses, who could say?_

_Lord Tywin rose to his feet. "We continue," he said in a clear strong voice that silenced the murmurs. "Those who wish to ask pardon for their treasons may do so. We will have no more follies." He moved to the Iron Throne and there seated himself on a step, a mere three feet off the floor._

_The light outside the windows was fading by the time the session drew to a close. Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it._

_Back in the safety of her own chambers, she hugged a pillow to her face to muffle a squeal of joy. Oh, gods be good, he did it, he put me aside in front of everyone. When a serving girl brought her supper, she almost kissed her. There was hot bread and fresh-churned butter, a thick beef soup, capon and carrots, and peaches in honey. Even the food tastes sweeter, she thought._

_Come dark, she slipped into a cloak and left for the godswood. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was guarding the drawbridge in his white armor. Sansa tried her best to sound miserable as she bid him a good evening. From the way he leered at her, she was not sure she had been wholly convincing._

_Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. "Why so sadface?" Sansa asked him gaily. "You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he's done with me, he's . . . "_

_He took her hand. "Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They've scarcely begun."_

_Her heart sank. "What do you mean?"_

_"The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons."_

_"No," Sansa said, shocked. "He let me go, he . . . "_

_Ser Dontos planted a slobbery kiss on her ear. "Be brave. I swore to see you home, and now I can. The day has been chosen."_

_"When?" Sansa asked. "When will we go?"_

_"The night of Joffrey's wedding. After the feast. All the necessary arrangements have been made. The Red Keep will be full of strangers. Half the court will be drunk and the other half will be helping Joffrey bed his bride. For a little while, you will be forgotten, and the confusion will be our friend."_

_"The wedding won't be for a moon's turn yet. Margaery Tyrell is at Highgarden, they've only now sent for her."_

_"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers. It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"_

_"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."_

_"It's very lovely," Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair._

_"Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It's magic, you see. It's justice you hold. It's vengeance for your father." Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. "It's home."_

Since then many things had happened to Sansa. She had met with Lady Margaery and her grandmother Lady Olenna, otherwise known as the Queen of Thorns. She had spoken with them and had told them of how horrid Joffrey truly was after much coaxing from both Tyrells. Once she had finished speaking she had been terrified that the Tyrells would call the wedding off, and then she would actually have to marry Joffrey as she had feared she would have had to had the Tyrells not come and saved the day, but Lady Margaery had laughed when Sansa had voiced this concern and said that Sansa need not be worried about the wedding stopping. In fact since that conversation the Tyrells had been doing everything they could to make her feel welcome and a part of their social circle, and when Margaery had told Sansa that they were thinking of taking her with them for a visit to Highgarden to meet her older brother Willas, Sansa had been giddy with excitement, any chance to leave King's Landing would be well welcomed especially now that Joffrey's attentions were no longer focused on her.

Margaery had told her not to tell anyone about these plans, and so she had not said a word to anyone, apart from Ser Dontos, and her Florian had become so panicked when she had told him she had wondered why but all he would tell her was that she should not trust the Tyrells, for all they wanted from her according to him was her "claim". She did not believe him, but then a few days before they were meant to leave for Highgarden, she was brought to the Great Sept of Baelor and wedded to Tyrion Lannister the Imp.

She had been so upset then; her dreams of ever escaping King's Landing seemed to be fading away into nothingness right before her eyes. Margaery had looked on at her with something akin to pity, the rest of the Tyrells had not even deigned to speak with her, treating her as if she did not even exist. She felt horrible, she felt wretched and she was terrified that eventually her husband would try and claim her maidenhead. The only good thing that came of being married to Tyrion was that he was reasonably nice to her and that he had prevented Joffrey from beating her since that day in court many moons ago.

A few days after their marriage, she and her husband were sitting down for dinner, when Tyrion spoke. "I don't know if you are aware my lady, but Prince Doran and some of his retainers will be coming to King's Landing so that the prince may take up his seat on the small council."

Sansa merely nodded. Her husband sighed and went on. "I believe that you have a cousin from Dorne do you not? A lady Jeyne?"

Sansa nodded once more. She had not seen Jeyne since they had made the journey together from Winterfell, her cousin had been very ill for most of the trip, and looking back she realised that she and her obsession with Joffrey had likely not made things easier for her cousin nor for her aunt Ashara.

Tyrion was looking at her with his mismatched eyes as if he could read her thoughts. "I thought you would like to know that she and her mother will be coming to court as well with the Prince.

Sansa said nothing, but inside she was smiling, it had been so long since she had seen any family perhaps she could make amends with her cousin?

The day when her cousin and the Dornish retinue arrived, the Red Keep was humming with activity, everything had to be ready and perfect, and it was essential Sansa knew that no Dornishmen sat next to a Reachmen due to their centuries old feud. She was there in the courtyard of the Red Keep when the Dornish party were led through, and she saw her cousin from a mile away, with her pale blond hair and violet eyes, her cousin looked well. When Jeyne and her mother Ashara reached her they stopped for a mere moment to embrace her and Sansa could have sworn she heard her cousin whisper in her ear. "We'll take you away from here Sansa. I promise, for Winter will come for the Lannisters and we are unbent and unbroken."

* * *

**Catelyn**

Memories still haunted her, like a plague, they haunted her and would not let her go. She wondered if this was what it was like to go mad, with grief.

_Two days ride from Riverrun, a scout spied them watering their horses beside a muddy steam. Catelyn had never been so glad to see the twin tower badge of House Frey._

_When she asked him to lead them to her uncle, he said, "The Blackfish is gone west with the king, my lady. Martyn Rivers commands the outriders in his stead."_

_"I see." She had met Rivers at the Twins; a baseborn son of Lord Walder Frey, half brother to Ser Perwyn. It did not surprise her to learn that Robb had struck at the heart of Lannister power; clearly he had been contemplating just that when he sent her away to treat with Renly. "Where is Rivers now?"_

_"His camp is two hours ride, my lady."_

_"Take us to him," she commanded. Brienne helped her back into her saddle, and they set out at once._

_"Have you come from Bitterbridge, my lady?" the scout asked._

_"No." She had not dared. With Renly dead, Catelyn had been uncertain of the reception she might receive from his young widow and her protectors. Instead she had ridden through the heart of the war, through fertile riverlands turned to blackened desert by the fury of the Lannisters, and each night her scouts brought back tales that made her ill. "Lord Renly is slain," she added._

_"We'd hoped that tale was some Lannister lie, or—"_

_"Would that it were. My brother commands in Riverrun?"_

_"Yes, my lady. His Grace left Ser Edmure to hold Riverrun and guard his rear."_

_Gods grant him the strength to do so, Catelyn thought. And the wisdom as well. "Is there word from Robb in the west?"_

_"You have not heard?" The man seemed surprised. "His Grace won a great victory at Oxcross. Ser Stafford Lannister is dead, his host scattered."_

_Ser Wendel Manderly gave a whoop of pleasure, but Catelyn only nodded. Tomorrow's trials concerned her more than yesterday's triumphs._

_Martyn Rivers had made his camp in the shell of a shattered holdfast, beside a roofless stable and a hundred fresh graves. He went to one knee when Catelyn dismounted. "Well met, my lady. Your brother charged us to keep an eye out for your party, and escort you back to Riverrun in all haste should we come upon you."_

_Catelyn scarce liked the sound of that. "Is it my father?"_

_"No, my lady. Lord Hoster is unchanged." Rivers was a ruddy man with scant resemblance to his half brothers. "It is only that we feared you might chance upon Lannister scouts. Lord Tywin has left Harrenhal and marches west with all his power."_

_"Rise," she told Rivers, frowning. Stannis Baratheon would soon be on the march as well, gods help them all. "How long until Lord Tywin is upon us?"_

_"Three days, perhaps four, it is hard to know. We have eyes out along all the roads, but it would be best not to linger."_

_Nor did they. Rivers broke his camp quickly and saddled up beside her, and they set off again, near fifty strong now, flying beneath the direwolf, the leaping trout, the twin towers._

_Her men wanted to hear more of Robb's victory at Oxcross, and Rivers obliged. "There's a singer come to Riverrun, calls himself Rymund the Rhymer, he's made a song of the fight. Doubtless you'll hear it sung tonight, my lady. 'Wolf in the Night' this Rymund calls it." He went on to tell how the remnants of Ser Stafford's host had fallen back on Lannisport. Without siege engines there was no way to storm Casterly Rock, so the Young Wolf was paying the Lannisters back in kind for the devastation they'd inflicted on the riverlands. Lords Karstark and Glover were raiding along the coast, Lady Mormont had captured thousands of cattle and was driving them back toward Riverrun, while the Greatjon had seized the gold mines at Castamere, Nunn's Deep, and the Pendric Hills. Ser Wendel laughed. "Nothing's more like to bring a Lannister running than a threat to his gold."_

_"How did the king ever take the Tooth?" Ser Perwyn Frey asked his bastard brother. "That's a hard strong keep, and it commands the hill road."_

_"He never took it. He slipped around it in the night. It's said the direwolf showed him the way, that Grey Wind of his. The beast sniffed out a goat track that wound down a defile and up along beneath a ridge, a crooked and stony way, yet wide enough for men riding single file. The Lannisters in their watchtowers got not so much a glimpse of them." Rivers lowered his voice. "There's some say that after the battle, the king cut out Stafford Lannister's heart and fed it to the wolf."_

_"I would not believe such tales," Catelyn said sharply. "My son is no savage."_

_"As you say, my lady. Still, it's no more than the beast deserved. That is no common wolf, that one. The Greatjon's been heard to say that the old gods of the north sent those direwolves to your children."_

_Catelyn remembered the day when her boys had found the pups in the late summer snows. There had been five, three male and two female for the five trueborn children of House Stark . . . and a sixth, white of fur and red of eye, for Ned's bastard son Jon Snow. No common wolves, she thought. No indeed._

_That night as they made their camp, Brienne sought out her tent. "My lady, you are safely back among your own now, a day's ride from your brother's castle. Give me leave to go."_

_Catelyn should not have been surprised. The homely young woman had kept to herself all through their journey, spending most of her time with the horses, brushing out their coats and pulling stones from their shoes. She had helped Shadd cook and clean game as well, and soon proved that she could hunt as well as any. Any task Catelyn asked her to turn her hand to, Brienne had performed deftly and without complaint, and when she was spoken to she answered politely, but she never chattered, nor wept, nor laughed. She had ridden with them every day and slept among them every night without ever truly becoming one of them._

_It was the same when she was with Renly, Catelyn thought. At the feast, in the melee, even in Renly's pavilion with her brothers of the Rainbow Guard. There are walls around this one higher than Winterfell's._

_"If you left us, where would you go?" Catelyn asked her._

_"Back," Brienne said. "To Storm's End."_

_"Alone." It was not a question._

_The broad face was a pool of still water, giving no hint of what might live in the depths below. "Yes."_

_"You mean to kill Stannis."_

_Brienne closed her thick callused fingers around the hilt of her sword._

_The sword that had been his. "I swore a vow. Three times I swore. You heard me."_

_"I did," Catelyn admitted. The girl had kept the rainbow cloak when she discarded the rest of her bloodstained clothing, she knew. Brienne's own things had been left behind during their flight, and she had been forced to clothe herself in odd bits of Ser Wendel's spare garb, since no one else in their party had garments large enough to fit her. "Vows should be kept, I agree, but Stannis has a great host around him, and his own guards sworn to keep him safe."_

_"I am not afraid of his guards. I am as good as any of them. I should never have fled."_

_"Is that what troubles you, that some fool might call you craven?" She sighed. "Renly's death was no fault of youts. You served him valiantly, but when you seek to follow him into the earth, you serve no one." She stretched out a hand, to give what comfort a touch could give. "I know how hard it is—"_

_Brienne shook off her hand. "No one knows."_

_"You're wrong," Catelyn said sharply. "Every morning, when I wake, I remember that Ned is gone. I have no skill with swords, but that does not mean that I do not dream of riding to King's Landing and wrapping my hands around Cersei Lannister's white throat and squeezing until her face turns black."_

_The Beauty raised her eyes, the only part of her that was truly beautiful. "If you dream that, why would you seek to hold me back? Is it because of what Stannis said at the parley?"_

_Was it? Catelyn glanced across the camp. Two men were walking sentry, spears in hand. "I was taught that good men must fight evil in this world, and Renly's death was evil beyond all doubt. Yet I was also taught that the gods make kings, not the swords of men. If Stannis is our rightful king—"_

_"He's not. Robert was never the rightful king either, even Renly said as much. Jaime Lannister murdered the rightful king, after Robert killed his lawful heir on the Trident. Where were the gods then? The gods don't care about men, no more than kings care about peasants."_

_"A good king does care."_

_"Lord Renly . . . His Grace, he . . . he would have been the best king, my lady, he was so good, he . . . "_

_"He is gone, Brienne," she said, as gently as she could. "Stannis and Joffrey remain . . . and so does my son."_

_"He wouldn't . . . you'd never make a peace with Stannis, would you? Bend the knee? You wouldn't . . . "_

_"I will tell you true, Brienne. I do not know. My son may be a king, but I am no queen . . . only a mother who would keep her children safe, however she could."_

_"I am not made to be a mother. I need to fight."_

_"Then fight . . . but for the living, not the dead. Renly's enemies are Robb's enemies as well."_

_Brienne stared at the ground and shuffled her feet. "I do not know your son, my lady." She looked up. "I could serve you. If you would have me."_

_Catelyn was startled. "Why me?"_

_The question seemed to trouble Brienne. "You helped me. In the pavilion . . . when they thought that I had . . . that I had . . . "_

_"You were innocent."_

_"Even so, you did not have to do that. You could have let them kill me. I was nothing to you."_

_Perhaps I did not want to be the only one who knew the dark truth of what had happened there, Catelyn thought. "Brienne, I have taken many wellborn ladies into my service over the years, but never one like you. I am no battle commander."_

_"No, but you have courage. Not battle courage perhaps but . . . I don't know . . . a kind of woman's courage. And I think, when the time comes, you will not try and hold me back. Promise me that. That you will not hold me back from Stannis."_

_Catelyn could still hear Stannis saying that Robb's turn too would come in time. It was like a cold breath on the back of her neck. "When the time comes, I will not hold you back."_

_The tall girl knelt awkwardly, unsheathed Renly's longsword, and laid it at her feet. "Then I am yours, my lady. Your liege man, or . . . whatever you would have me be. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new."_

_"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise." As she clasped the other woman's hands between her own, Catelyn could not help but smile. How many times did I watch Ned accept a man's oath of service? She wondered what he would think if he could see her now._

_They forded the Red Fork late the next day, upstream of Riverrun where the river made a wide loop and the waters grew muddy and shallow. The crossing was guarded by a mixed force of archers and pikemen wearing the eagle badge of the Mallisters. When they saw Catelyn's banners, they emerged from behind their sharpened stakes and sent a man over from the far bank to lead her party across. "Slow and careful like, milady," he warned as he took the bridle of her horse. "We've planted iron spikes under the water, y'see, and there's caltrops scattered among them rocks there. It's the same on all the fords, by your brother's command."_

_Edmure thinks to fight here. The realization gave her a queasy feeling in the bowels, but she held her tongue._

_Between the Red Fork and the Tumblestone, they joined a stream of smallfolk making for the safety of Riverrun. Some were driving animals before them, others pulling wayns, but they made way as Catelyn rode past, and cheered her with cries of "Tully!" or "Stark!" Half a mile from the castle, she passed through a large encampment where the scarlet banner of the Blackwoods waved above the lord's tent. Lucas took his leave of her there, to seek out his father, Lord Tytos. The rest rode on._

_Catelyn spied a second camp strung out along the bank north of the Tumblestone, familiar standards flapping in the wind—Marq Piper's dancing maiden, Darry's plowman, the twining red-and-white snakes of the Paeges. They were all her father's bannermen, lords of the Trident. Most had left Riverrun before she had, to defend their own lands. If they were here again, it could only mean that Edmure had called them back. Gods save us, it's true, he means to offer battle to Lord Tywin._

_Something dark was dangling against the walls of Riverrun, Catelyn saw from a distance. When she rode close, she saw dead men hanging from the battlements, slumped at the ends of long ropes with hempen nooses tight around their necks, their faces swollen and black. The crows had been at them, but their crimson cloaks still showed bright against the sandstone walls._

_"They have hanged some Lannisters," Hal Mollen observed._

_"A pretty sight," Ser Wendel Manderly said cheerfully._

_"Our friends have begun without us," Perwyn Frey jested. The others laughed, all but Brienne, who gazed up at the row of bodies unblinking, and neither spoke nor smiled._

_If they have slain the Kingslayer, then my daughters are dead as well. Catelyn spurred her horse to a canter. Hal Mollen and Robin Flint raced past at a gallop, halooing to the gatehouse. The guards on the walls had doubtless spied her banners some time ago, for the portcullis was up as they approached._

_Edmure rode out from the castle to meet her, surrounded by three of her father's sworn men—great-bellied Ser Desmond Grell the master-at-arms, Utherydes Wayn the steward, and Ser Robin Ryger, Riverrun's big bald captain of guards. They were all three of an age with Lord Hoster, men who had spent their lives in her father's service. Old men, Catelyn realized._

_Edmure wore a blue-and-red cloak over a tunic embroidered with silver fish. From the look of him, he had not shaved since she rode south; his beard was a fiery bush. "Cat, it is good to have you safely back. When we heard of Renly's death, we feared for your life. And Lord Tywin is on the march as well."_

_"So I am told. How fares our father?"_

_"One day he seems stronger, the next . . . " He shook his head. "He's asked for you. I did not know what to tell him."_

_"I will go to him soon," she vowed. "Has there been word from Storm's End since Renly died? Or from Bitterbridge?" No ravens came to men on the road, and Catelyn was anxious to know what had happened behind her._

_"Nothing from Bitterbridge. From Storm's End, three birds from the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose, all carrying the same plea. Stannis has him surrounded by land and sea. He offers his allegiance to whatsoever king will break the siege. He fears for the boy, he says. What boy would that be, do you know?"_

_"Edric Storm," Brienne told them. "Robert's bastard son."_

_Edmure looked at her curiously. "Stannis has sworn that the garrison might go free, unharmed, provided they yield the castle within the fortnight and deliver the boy into his hands, but Ser Cortnay will not consent."_

_He risks all for a baseborn boy whose blood is not even his own, Catelyn thought. "Did you send him an answer?"_

_Edmure shook his head. "Why, when we have neither help nor hope to offer? And Stannis is no enemy of ours."_

_Ser Robin Ryger spoke. "My lady, can you tell us the manner of Lord Renly's death? The tales we've heard have been queer."_

_"Cat," her brother said, "some say you killed Renly. Others claim it was some southron woman." His glance lingered on Brienne._

_"My king was murdered," the girl said quietly, "and not by Lady Catelyn. I swear it on my sword, by the gods old and new."_

_"This is Brienne of Tarth, the daughter of Lord Selwyn the Evenstar, who served in Renly's Rainbow Guard," Catelyn told them. "Brienne, I am honored to acquaint you with my brother Ser Edmure Tully, heir to Riverrun. His steward Utherydes Wayn. Ser Robin Ryger and Ser Desmond Grell."_

_"Honored," said Ser Desmond. The others echoed him. The girl flushed, embarrassed even at this commonplace courtesy. If Edmure thought her a curious sort of lady, at least he had the grace not to say so._

_"Brienne was with Renly when he was killed, as was I," said Catelyn, "but we had no part in his death." She did not care to speak of the shadow, here in the open with men all around, so she waved a hand at the bodies. "Who are these men you've hanged?"_

_Edmure glanced up uncomfortably. "They came with Ser Cleos when he brought the queen's answer to our peace offer."_

_Catelyn was shocked. "You've killed envoys?"_

_"False envoys," Edmure declared. "They pledged me their peace and surrendered their weapons, so I allowed them freedom of the castle, and for three nights they ate my meat and drank my mead whilst I talked with Ser Cleos. On the fourth night, they tried to free the Kingslayer." He pointed up. "That big brute killed two guards with naught but those ham hands of his, caught them by the throats and smashed their skulls together while that skinny lad beside him was opening Lannister's cell with a bit of wire, gods curse him. The one on the end was some sort of damned mummer. He used my own voice to command that the River Gate be opened. The guardsmen swear to it, Enger and Delp and Long Lew, all three. If you ask me, the man sounded nothing like me, and yet the oafs were raising the portcullis all the same."_

_This was the Imp's work, Catelyn suspected; it stank of the same sort of cunning he had displayed at the Eyrie. Once, she would have named Tyrion the least dangerous of the Lannisters. Now she was not so certain. "How is it you caught them?"_

_"Ah, as it happened, I was not in the castle. I'd crossed the Tumblestone to, ah . . . "_

_"You were whoring or wenching. Get on with the tale."_

_Edmure's cheeks flamed as red as his beard. "It was the hour before dawn, and I was only then returning. When Long Lew saw my boat and recognized me, he finally thought to wonder who was standing below barking commands, and raised a cry."_

_"Tell me the Kingslayer was retaken."_

_"Yes, though not easily. Jaime got hold of a sword, slew Poul Pernford and Ser Desmond's squire Myles, and wounded Delp so badly that Maester Vyman fears he'll soon die as well. It was a bloody mess. At the sound of steel, some of the other red cloaks rushed to join him, barehand or no. I hanged those beside the four who freed him, and threw the rest in the dungeons. Jaime too. We'll have no more escapes from that one. He's down in the dark this time, chained hand and foot and bolted to the wall."_

_"And Cleos Frey?"_

_"He swears he knew naught of the plot. Who can say? The man is half Lannister, half Frey, and all liar. I put him in Jaime's old tower cell."_

_"You say he brought terms?"_

_"If you can call them that. You'll like them no more than I did, I promise."_

_"Can we hope for no help from the south, Lady Stark?" asked Utherydes Wayn, her father's steward. "This charge of incest . . . Lord Tywin does not suffer such slights lightly. He will seek to wash the stain from his daughter's name with the blood of her accuser, Lord Stannis must see that. He has no choice but to make common cause with us."_

_Stannis has made common cause with a power greater and darker. "Let us speak of these matters later." Catelyn trotted over the drawbridge, putting the grisly row of dead Lannisters behind her. Her brother kept pace. As they rode out into the bustle of Riverrun's upper bailey, a naked toddler ran in front of the horses. Catelyn jerked her reins hard to avoid him, glancing about in dismay. Hundreds of smallfolk had been admitted to the castle, and allowed to erect crude shelters against the walls. Their children were everywhere underfoot, and the yard teemed with their cows, sheep, and chickens. "Who are all these folk?"_

_"My people," Edmure answered. "They were afraid."_

_Only my sweet brother would crowd all these useless mouths into a castle that might soon be under siege. Catelyn knew that Edmure had a soft heart; sometimes she thought his head was even softer. She loved him for it, yet still . . ._

_"Can Robb be reached by raven?"_

_"He's in the field, my lady," Ser Desmond replied. "The bird would have no way to find him."_

_Edmure swung down from his saddle. He was a head taller than she was, but he would always be her little brother. "Cat," he said unhappily, "Lord Tywin is coming—"_

_"He is making for the west, to defend his own lands. If we close our gates and shelter behind the walls, we can watch him pass with safety."_

_"This is Tully land," Edmure declared. "If Tywin Lannister thinks to cross it unbloodied, I mean to teach him a hard lesson."_

_The same lesson you taught his son? Her brother could be stubborn as river rock when his pride was touched, but neither of them was likely to forget how Ser Jaime had cut Edmure's host to bloody pieces the last time he had offered battle. "We have nothing to gain and everything to lose by meeting Lord Tywin in the field," Catelyn said tactfully._

_"The yard is not the place to discuss my battle plans."_

_"As you will. Where shall we go?"_

_Her brother's face darkened. For a moment she thought he was about to lose his temper with her, but finally he snapped, "The godswood. If you will insist."_

_She followed him along a gallery to the godswood gate. Edmure's anger had always been a sulky, sullen thing. Catelyn was sorry she had wounded him, but the matter was too important for her to concern herself with his pride. When they were alone beneath the trees, Edmure turned to face her._

_"You do not have the strength to meet the Lannisters in the field," she said bluntly._

_"When all my strength is marshalled, I should have eight thousand foot and three thousand horse," Edmure said._

_"Which means Lord Tywin will have near twice your numbers."_

_"Robb's won his battles against worse odds," Edmure replied, "and I have a plan. You've forgotten Roose Bolton. Lord Tywin defeated him on the Green Fork, but failed to pursue. When Lord Tywin went to Harrenhal, Bolton took the ruby ford and the crossroads. He has ten thousand men. I've sent word to Helman Tallhart to join him with the garrison Robb left at the Twins—"_

_"Edmure, Robb left those men to hold the Twins and make certain Lord Walder keeps faith with us."_

_"He has," Edmure said stubbornly. "The Freys fought bravely in the Whispering Wood, and old Ser Stevron died at Oxcross, we hear. Ser Ryman and Black Walder and the rest are with Robb in the west, Martyn has been of great service scouting, and Ser Perwyn helped see you safe to Renly. Gods be good, how much more can we ask of them? Your boy Bran and Your daughter Arya are betrothed to his offspring Roose Bolton wed to a daughter, I hear. And haven't you taken two of his grandsons to be fostered at Winterfell?"_

_"A ward can easily become a hostage, if need be." She had not known that Ser Stevron was dead, nor of Bolton's marriage._

_"If we're two hostages to the good, all the more reason Lord Walder dare not play us false. Bolton needs Frey's men, and Ser Helman's as well. I've commanded him to retake Harrenhal."_

_"That's like to be a bloody business."_

_"Yes, but once the castle falls, Lord Tywin will have no safe retreat. My own levies will defend the fords of Red Fork against his crossing. If he attacks across the river, he'll end as Rhaegar did when he tried to cross the Trident. If he holds back, he'll be caught between Riverrun and Harrenhal, and when Robb returns from the west we can finish him for good and all."_

_Her brother's voice was full of brusque confidence, but Catelyn found herself wishing that Robb had not taken her uncle Brynden west with him. The Blackfish was the veteran of half a hundred battles; Edmure was the veteran of one, and that one lost._

_"The plan's a good one," he concluded. "Lord Tytos says so, and Lord Jonos as well. When did Blackwood and Bracken agree about anything that was not certain, I ask you?"_

_"Be that as it may." She was suddenly weary. Perhaps she was wrong to oppose him. Perhaps it was a splendid plan, and her misgivings only a woman's fears. She wished Ned were here, or her uncle Brynden, or . . . "Have you asked Father about this?"_

_"Father is in no state to weigh strategies. Two days ago he was making plans for your marriage to Brandon Stark! Go see him yourself if you do not believe me. This plan will work, Cat, you'll see."_

_"I hope so, Edmure. I truly do." She kissed him on the cheek, to let him know she meant it, and went to find her father._

That battle had ended with a discovery of a ruse. Edmure's host had smashed the Lannister host at the Red Fork, only to discover that it was not Tywin Lannister leading it but one Ser Armory Loch. One of the men they had taken prisoner confessed all for fear of his life. He told her brother of how Lord Tywin had received word whilst still in Harrenhal of Stannis's sail from Dragonstone, and how a Tyrell host was camped south of the Kingswood, he took his men and marched from Harrenhal and at Tumbleton was met by Ser Garlan Tyrell and Randyll Tarly. Before he left though Lord Tywin sent 1,000 men with Armory Loch and had they march west, hoping to draw Edmure out, the plan had succeeded and Armory Loch and his men were dead. Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells had taken Stannis Baratheon in the rear at King's Landing and saved the day.

But before she had learnt of this, word had come from the north on dark wings. The Ironborn had invaded and had captured Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin, and most painfully of all Theon Greyjoy had captured Winterfell, had had it put to the torch and killed Bran and Rickon. Catelyn's heart already broken from Ned's death, shattered when she read the letter. She would have cried but she had no more tears left, instead she wrote a letter to Robb informing him of Theon's betrayal, and in a cold moment of clarity walked down to the dungeons and freed the Kingslayer, hoping against hope that the return of the man would be enough to allow Sansa and Arya to come back home to her.

Edmure had been furious when he had found out what she had done, and had sent riders out looking for the man, though they had either not returned or come back empty handed. Brienne had done her job well. Whilst she waited in Riverrun for her daughters to come back to her, Robb sent word from the Crag, Alys had given birth to a baby girl whom they had decided to name her Shiera. A few weeks later Robb, Alys and their daughter arrived back in Riverrun, with the northern host. With the north under attack, it was imperative that Robb march back north to reclaim it. Though her son had not been happy when he had found out what she had done, he had told her later that he understood, but of course Lord Rickard had been most wrath and had only been prevented from killing the Lannister prisoners they still had because of the efforts of his daughter Alys.

As the days turned into weeks, and there was still no sign of Brienne returning with her daughters, Catelyn began to grow increasingly melancholy, something that was only worsened with her father's passing and the fact that Lothar Frey and Walder Rivers had been sent from the Twins by Old Walder Frey to renegotiate the marriage pact, what with her Bran dead and Arya still missing and worst case scenario dead. It was eventually decided that Edmure would marry one of Walder Frey's daughters by the name of Rosilin, and that he would allow Robb and the northmen passage back north to fight the Ironborn.

There was just the small matter of Robb's will to be dealt with, and two days before they were due to head off for the Twins, after seeing Lothar Frey and Walder Rivers away, Robb gathered his remaining lords and herself and Alys into her father's- her brother's now- solar.

He laid a envelop on the table, which had the Direwolf seal of House Stark on it. And spoke. "My lords, my lady, mother, Alys. This paper contains my will and testament. I would ask that you all fix your seals to it. Maester Vyman, Ser Brynden, I ask that you bear witness to what is done now." And so all the remaining northern lords and riverlords placed their respective seals on the paper. Then Robb spoke again. "Lord Mallister, I will require two of your fastest ships. Lord Glover, Lady Maege you shall be travelling on these ships, carrying false documents to present to anyone not of the north should you be captured. I would wish for you to locate Greywater Watch and ask the assistance of the Cranongmen in regaining Moat Cailin."

Catelyn saw Lord Glover and Lady Mormont nod their heads. Robb went on. "I will give you fifty men each to help man the ship and defend it. You shall go with Lord Mallister to Seagard and then sail through the marshes. With Balon Greyjoy dead, his brother and daughter will sail back to the Iron Islands to contest the crown. We shall take advantage of that. Would that Robett and Ser Hellman had not marched on Duskendale, we would have had more men. Alas, it does no good to speak of what ifs and maybes. That is all thanking you my lords," as the lords began to file out Robb spoke once more. "Lord Rickard, Uncle Edmure, Lord Umber, Ser Brynden Maester Vyman if you could remain behind please."

Catelyn was curious as to what her son could be planning now, though he noticed that neither Alys nor Lord Glover or Lady Mormont seemed particularly surprised. Once the remaining lords had left and it was just those Robb had requested to stay behind present her son spoke once more. "With Bran and Rickon dead, Arya missing and Sansa married to the Imp, should I die before myself and Alys can have a son, Winterfell and the North would pass to my daughter. But this is the Lannisters we speak of, so I highly doubt they would allow that to happen. Winterfell cannot fall into Lannister hands, I will not allow it. In the will I have stated quite clearly that my cousin Jon Sand is my heir and shall become Lord of Winterfell should I die without a son. Lord Karstark, I would ask that should anything happen to me, you take Alys to the Wall and see to it that Jon knows of what I wish, he will protect her and Shiera. I will also give you a copy of the will Lord Karstark and Ser Brynden. I do not trust some of these Lords, and I do not truly believe that Robett Glover or Hellman Tallhart would be so foolish as to march on Duskendale."

Lord Rickard and the Blackfish both nodded. "It will be done your grace."

Her son gave a weary smile then. "Good now leave me, I have a daughter I wish to see."

The lords filled out, and her son sagged down onto a chair, looking for all the word like his father had done on numerous occasions.


	9. Wicked Symphony

**Robb**

He was winning battles but losing the war. The Westerlands were plundered, and yet the North had fallen. Casterly Rock had no hope of defending itself, and yet he had marched east not further west. Winterfell had fallen and Casterly Rock remained standing. His brothers were slain by his best friend, and his mother had freed the Kingslayer. Robett Glover and Ser Hellman Tallhart had marched south and had been broken by Randyll Tarly's host at Duskendale, Robett had been a prisoner of war but Robb had traded Willem and Martyn Lannister for the man, and they had received word that Robett had boarded a ship bound for White Harbour. His campaign was falling around him, with Winterfell fallen and Ironborn in Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte, and the Lannisters and Tyrells having a secure holding of King's Landing, he knew he was trapped. March north and the Riverlands would bleed, march north and his northmen would not wish to leave their lands undefended. Remain in the Riverlands and the North would continue to bleed. He knew as King in the North, that by proxy he had to march back north, he had to reclaim the north and hope and pray that the Lannisters left the Riverlands alone, though he highly doubted that they would.

The only bright spots in an otherwise gloomy few weeks for Robb had been the birth of his and Alys's daughter Shiera. Shiera had Alys's long face and brown hair, but she had his Tully blue eyes. She was the light in the darkness, her smiles, her gurgles they were what kept Robb going through the dark times, they had even been enough to convince Lord Rickard not to kill the Lannister prisoners they still had when they had come back to Riverrun. Before they had left the Crag though, the Westerlings had become part of the Kingdom of the North, Lady Jeyne Westerling having married the Smalljon, much to her mother's apparent disdain but to the Greatjon's joy. With them they brought fifty men, a few of them knights. Riverrun was filled with gloom and despair when Robb and the northmen had arrived back. His uncle Edmure had destroyed the Lannister host that had thought to march west, but it had not been Tywin Lannister leading them, no it had been a small host led by Ser Armory Loch, and used as a distraction as Lord Lannister joined the rest of his strength with that of the Tyrells and destroyed Stannis Baratheon on the Blackwater.

His mother was a shade of the woman she had been before the king had come to Winterfell all those years ago. She constantly had a haunted look in her face, a look he had seen all too often on Lord Karstark's face whilst they had been in the Westerlands. He could not even muster any anger at her actions, for he understood them all too well, he knew she wanted Sansa and Arya back safe with them, he wanted the same thing too. Hell if something were to happen to Shiera now, he knew he would tear the earth apart looking for some way to get her back. With Bran dead, and there being no response from King's Landing, the Freys had come knocking on Riverrun's doors to once more claim one of Robb's kin for a marriage. This time his uncle Edmure would be marrying one of Lord Walder's daughters by the name of Roslin. His uncle had been petulant and had asked much later when the Freys had gone back to the Twins, as to why he could not choose his own bride. Robb had not had the patience nor the will to chastise his uncle, instead that task had fallen to his great uncle the Blackfish, who had reminded Edmure that he was the Lord of Riverrun now with Lord Hoster's death, and it was up to him to do his duty to his family.

Before they had marched, Robb had written his will, which stated that in the event of his death, Alys and their daughter were to be taken to the Wall and see that Jon took care of them. He had legitimised his cousin and named him Stark, he hoped that should anything happen to him that Jon would take care of Alys and Shiera to the best of his ability and would try and make sure no harm befell them. He had trusted Theon, and Theon had betrayed that trust, but Jon was family, the blood of the Starks and the First Men flowed through his cousin's veins, Jon was honourable to a fault and Robb knew exceptionally protective when it came to family, so he was confident that his cousin would protect Alys and Shiera. He had had his lords and lady bannermen affix their seals to the letter that contained his will, and had told Lord Karstark, his uncle Edmure and the Blackfish the true contents of the will upon finishing with the rest of his bannermen, Lord Karstark had a spare copy of the will, should anything go awry, he kept the main copy on his person though he knew to give it to Alys before they entered the Twins for Edmure's wedding.

The Westerlings had deigned to stay in Riverrun and not venture north for the wedding, though Ser Raynald the heir to the Crag would be accompanying Robb to the Twins. Ser Gawen had been freed from his cell in Riverrun and would remain with his wife, and three younger children. Though there was something about the Westerlings that Robb was not too sure about, there was something there that he did not like, he knew Greywind felt it as well for his wolf always growled whenever one of the Westerlings accept for Ser Raynald were near. Robb had been tempted to just let Greywind have his way with them, but he knew that as King he could not do so, he would have to wait for the wedding and the Ironborn to be dealt with before he could deal with the Westerlings.

One piece of good news that they had received before arriving at the Twins was that Balon Greyjoy had died and that there was likely going to be a succession dispute in the Iron Islands with his daughter and two of his brothers both claiming the Seastone Chair. Roose Bolton had told them that Moat Cailin had been left sparsely defended, this Robb felt would make it slightly easier to retake the Moat and the North, there were secret passageways that could allow an army south of the neck to navigate round and have easier access to the Moat or completely avoid it, but for those passageways to become available to them, you would need the alliance of the Cranongmen, something Robb was confident of having.

Their journey north to the Twins was delayed by rain and by floods. At Hag's Mire Lord Glover, Mallister and Lady Mormont left them and made their way to their boats that would help them find Greywater Watch. At Oldstones they camped for a few days to gain some respite, and Robb spent some time with his wife and daughter. It was there that he decided that it would be safer for Alys and Shiera not to be actually in the Twins when the wedding took place. For as he told his wife, his mother and his good father. "There is something strange going on, the Westerlings submitted too easily and with Duskendale, I'm not sure what it is but I do not think all is as it seems here. Alys my love, I know you will likely argue with what I am about to say, but I do not wish for you or for Lord Karstark to enter the hall when my uncle's wedding takes place."

"Why?" Lord Karstark asked, though Robb knew that his wife had more than likely figured out why.

"Because Lord Walder accepted Edmure's marriage far to easily. I would have expected that he demand something more from me. I am worried that should he see Alys and Shiera in the hall during the wedding he will demand more, or perhaps hold us hostage to his own mad sense of right and wrong. That is why I want you Lord Karstark to take fifty of your best men along with Ned Wull and Owen Norrey and Olyvar Frey and set up camp to the West of the Twins, within range but not close enough that should something go awry they'll, take you out. Should anything look amiss to you during the night and the day, ride north, ride for Greywater Watch, should you find the Watch give them the Will, they will help you to the Wall."

"Very Well then." Lord Karstark said and then he got up and left.

"Do you truly believe that something could happen to you Robb?" His wife asked.

"I do not know my love. Walder Frey is a strange and peculiar man. I do not want to take any chances, nor do I want to risk you or Shiera." He replied.

"You are right Robb, Walder Frey is a prickly man. Something is awry here." His mother replied, with that haunted look still in her eyes. Since they had received word that Sansa had married Tyrion, it seemed that all hope of ever getting his sisters back had died up.

Three weeks after they had departed from Riverrun, they arrived at the Twins. Alys, Shiera with their guards had set up camp west of the Water Tower in the woods where noise travelled, Robb had sent Greywind off to them when it became apparent that something was awry. Greywind had lunged at one of the Freys sent to escort them into the Twins and so Robb had allowed him to be led into the woods, by Owen Norrey, saying that he would more than likely be safe there.

Then the wedding had begun. The drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted at one another below. Walder Frey must be deaf as a stone to call this music. Robb sipped a cup of wine and watched Jinglebell prance to the sounds of "Alysanne." At least he thought it was meant to be "Alysanne." With these players, it might as easily have been "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

Outside the rain still fell, but within the Twins the air was thick and hot. A fire roared in the hearth and rows of torches burned smokily from iron sconces on the walls. Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbour in the ribs.

Even on the dais they were closer than Robb would have liked. He had been placed between Ser Ryman Frey and Roose Bolton, and had gotten a good noseful of both. Ser Ryman drank as if Westeros was about to run short of wine, and sweated it all out under his arms. He had bathed in lemonwater, she judged, but no lemon could mask so much sour sweat. Roose Bolton had a sweeter smell to him, yet no more pleasant. He sipped hippocras in preference to wine or mead, and ate but little.

Robb could not fault him for his lack of appetite. The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves' brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves' brains turned Catelyn's stomach.

You would never guess Edmure complained of Roslin all the way from Riverrun to the Twins. Husband and wife ate from a single plate, drank from a single cup, and exchanged chaste kisses between sips. Most of the dishes Edmure waved away. He could not blame him for that.

Poor Roslin's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Well, she is a maid wedded, but the bedding's yet to come. "At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters," Walder Frey had said. "It would please an old man's heart." His heart should be well pleased, then; Robb had done his duty like a king. He had danced with each of the girls, with Edmure's bride and the eighth Lady Frey, with the widow Ami and Roose Bolton's wife Fat Walda, with the pimply twins Serra and Sarra, even with Shirei, Lord Walder's youngest, who must have been all of six. Robb wondered whether the Lord of the Crossing would be satisfied, or if he would find cause for complaint in all the other daughters and granddaughters who had not had a turn with the king. "Your sisters dance very well," he said to Ser Ryman Frey, trying to be pleasant.

"They're aunts and cousins." Ser Ryman drank a swallow of wine, the sweat trickling down his cheek into his beard.

A sour man, and in his cups, Robb thought. The Late Lord Frey might be niggardly when it came to feeding his guests, but he did not stint on the drink. The ale, wine, and mead were flowing as fast as the river outside. The Greatjon was already roaring drunk. Lord Walder's son Merrett was matching him cup for cup, but Ser Whalen Frey had passed out trying to keep up with the two of them. Nothing had seemed out of place, not yet and yet he could not stop the sense of foreboding that seemed to engulf him. His mother was sat next to him on is right, and she too seemed to be weary of the surroundings.

Everyone thought my lord would choose Fair Walda," Lady Walda Bolton told Ser Wendel, shouting to be heard above the music. Fat Walda was a round pink butterball of a girl with watery blue eyes, limp yellow hair, and a huge bosom, yet her voice was a fluttering squeak. It was hard to picture her in the Dreadfort in her pink lace and cape of vair. "My lord grandfather offered Roose his bride's weight in silver as a dowry, though, so my lord of Bolton picked me." The girl's chins jiggled when she laughed. "I weigh six stone more than Fair Walda, but that was the first time I was glad of it. I'm Lady Bolton now and my cousin's still a maid, and she'll be nineteen soon, poor thing."

The Lord of the Dreadfort paid the chatter no mind, Robb saw. Sometimes he tasted a bite of this, a spoon of that, tearing bread from the loaf with short strong fingers, but the meal could not distract him. Bolton had made a toast to Lord Walder's grandsons when the wedding feast began, pointedly mentioning that Walder and Walder were in the care of his bastard son. Something was going on in the man's head, what it was though he knew not.

Above the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair all over three of his grandsons.

The sight of the dogs made, Robb think of Greywind in the woods with Alys, Shiera and Lord Rickard. He hoped they would be safe and that this wedding could be done. Beside him his mother sighed. Robb looked at her questioningly, but she merely nodded her head and Robb asked no questions. She had become more melancholy as the days had gone on his mother had, he hoped that she could find some happiness when they returned home.

The Greatjon had drunk another of Lord Walder's brood under the table, Petyr Pimple this time. The lad has a third his capacity, what did he expect? Lord Umber wiped his mouth, stood, and began to sing. "A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown and covered with hair!" His voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from drink. Unfortunately the fiddlers and drummers and flutists up above were playing "Flowers of Spring," which suited the words of "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" as well as snails might suit a bowl of porridge. Even poor Jinglebell covered his ears at the cacophony.

"A few more hours and this farce is done, Mother," he said in a low voice, as the Greatjon sang of the maid with honey in her hair. "Black Walder's been mild as a lamb for once. And Uncle Edmure seems well content in his bride."

"Would you care for a dance, Mother?"

"Thank you, but no." His mother replied. "No doubt one of Lord Walder's daughters would be pleased to partner you."

"Oh, no doubt." His smile was resigned. They would all try and get into his good books no doubt.

As he danced with Dacey Mormont he took some time to look about the hall. Edmure was kissing Roslin and squeezing her hand. Elsewhere in the hall, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Danwell Frey played a drinking game, Lame Lothar said something amusing to Ser Hosteen, one of the younger Freys juggled three daggers for a group of giggly girls, and Jinglebell sat on the floor sucking wine off his fingers. The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening.

Seated betwixt his black oak towers, the Lord of the Crossing clapped his spotted hands together. The noise they made was so faint that even those on the dais scarce heard it, but Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen saw and began to pound their cups on the table. Lame Lothar joined them, then Marq Piper and Ser Danwell and Ser Raymund. Half the guests were soon pounding. Finally even the mob of musicians in the gallery took note. The piping, drumming, and fiddling trailed off into quiet.

"Your Grace," Lord Walder called out to Robb, "the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said, and Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?"

Robb raised a hand. "if you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, by all means let us bed them."

A roar of approval greeted his pronouncement. Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown." Jinglebell hopped from foot to foot, his own crown ringing. "I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks," Alyx Frey called out boldly. "Does it take a worm to make them rise?" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, "I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!" and Alyx said, "Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. "And a mighty pike it is!" he proclaimed. "Nay, I'll wager it's a minnow," Fat Walda Bolton shouted out from Catelyn's side. Then the general cry of "Bed them! Bed them!" went up again.

The guests swarmed the dais, the drunkest in the forefront as ever. The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Catelyn to hear. She heard the Greatjon, though. "Give this little bride to me," he bellowed as he shoved through the other men and threw Roslin over one shoulder. "Look at this little thing! No meat on her at all!"

As he watched the bride and groom get carried away, he made to walk back to his seat, but when he saw Edwyn Frey push his mother away, and then saw her slap him, he felt his anger stir and he made to move towards them, but then felt something pierce him in the back. He looked down to see a quarrel jutting out of his rib, a second quarrel buried itself in his leg, then a third buried itself in his chest, and he staggered to the floor. Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor.

He heard his mother scream but could not reply, blood was filling his mouth. The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. But when he reached for his swordbelt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. She saw Lucas Blackwood cut down by Ser Hosteen Frey. One of the Vances was hamstrung by Black Walder as he was wrestling with Ser Harys Haigh. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. The crossbows took Donnel Locke. When had they begun playing the Rains of Castamere? Robb thought. The Smalljon had thrown a table over him by that point though and so Robb's vision was obscured.

"Mercy!" Catelyn cried, but horns and drums and the clash of steel smothered her plea. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Dacey's stomach. By then men were pouring in the other doors as well, mailed men in shaggy fur cloaks with steel in their hands. Northmen! From where he lay on the floor he took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them struck the Smalljon's head off with two huge blows of his axe. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.

In the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily. Robb threw the table away and struggled to his feet, arrows protruding from his body, and blood pouring from his wounds. Lord Walder raised a hand, and the music stopped, all but one drum. "Heh," Lord Walder cackled at Robb, "the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh."

Robb saw his mother grab JinglebellLord Walder!" she shouted. "LORD WALDER!" The drum beat slow and sonorous, doom boom doom. "Enough," said Catelyn. "Enough, I say. You have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end." When she pressed her dagger to Jinglebell's throat, the memory of Bran's sickroom came back to her, with the feel of steel at her own throat. The drum went boom boom boom boom boom doom. "Please," she said. "He is my son. My first son and my last. Let him go. Let him go and I swear we will forget this . . . forget all you've done here. I swear it by the old gods and new, we . . . we will take no vengeance . . . "

Lord Walder peered at her in mistrust. "Only a fool would believe such blather. D'you take me for a fool, my lady?"

"I take you for a father. Keep me for a hostage, Edmure as well if you haven't killed him. But let Robb go."

"No," his voice was a whisper now so very faint. "Mother no..."

"Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, please. Save yourself . . . if not for me, for Alys, for Shiera." His mother begged of him tears in her eyes.

"Alys... Shiera?" he grabbed the edge of a table and forced himself to stand. "Mother, Greywind..."

"Go to him. Now. Robb, walk out of here."

Lord Walder snorted. "And why would I let him do that?"

His mother pressed the blade deeper into Jinglebell's throat. The lackwit rolled his eyes at her in mute appeal. A foul stench assailed her nose, but she paid it no more mind than she did the sullen ceaseless pounding of that drum, boom doom boom doom boom doom. Ser Ryman and Black Walder were circling round her back, Robb was about to shout out a warning to he when she spoke once more. "On my honour as a Tully," she told Lord Walder, "on my honour as a Stark, I will trade your boy's life for Robb's. A son for a son." Her hand shook so badly she was ringing Jinglebell's head.

Boom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man's lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn's hand, slippery with sweat. "A son for a son, heh," he repeated. "But that's a grandson . . . and he never was much use."

Roose Bolton walked up to him then, a knife in hand, Robb leaned forward thinking to use his support. Bolton leaned in and whispered in that deceitfully soft voice of his, "Jaime Lannister sends his regards." Then Robb felt the cold steel being plunged into his chest, he felt the blood pour out of him, he heard his mother screaming, he heard the howling of Greywind far in the woods. But before the Young Wolf died, there was one name on his lips. "Alys..." Then the King in the North died.

* * *

**Tyrion**

He had come to King's Landing as Hand of the King, acting in his father's stead. He had done all he could during the battle of the Green Fork. He had brought the mountain clans with him, and had put them to use in the city. He had done all he could to keep King's Landing functioning despite the barraging of the Roseroad and the diminishing supplies in the city. He had done all he could to limit the damage of Joffrey and Cersei's follies and impulses. He had agreed to a betrothal between Myrcella and Prince Trystane Martell to bring Dorne closer to the Iron Throne, in exchange he would give them the men responsible for Princess Elia and her children's deaths. How he knew not, but he was a Lannister, and a Lannister always paid their debts, as Jonos Slynt, Maester Pycelle had all found out.

Then Stannis had attacked. The Battle of the Blackwater may have lasted one day in terms of fighting and such, but the preparation that went into it, the setting up of the Wildfire, the sending of the wildlings from the Vale into the Kingswood, the multiple fallback options that Tyrion had come up with should the city fall, all of that had taken weeks. The battle itself had seemed to be going their way, the wildfire took care of most of Stannis Baratheon's ships, Tyrion had watched them burn, had watched as the green flames engulfed the ships, the men and the water and formed shapes like a dragon rising out of the ashes. Stannis Baratheon's fleet had burned and yet the man had somehow managed to get ashore with some of his men. The fighting was fierce and at point it did look as if Stannis and his men might breach the city walls, and Tyrion had felt the pit of despair open up like a cathartic wound and almost swallow him whole. Then had come the attempt on his life. Ser Mandon Moore, a knight of the Kingsguard, sworn to defend the royal family had tried to kill him. Had almost succeeded had it not been for Pod, Tyrion's squire and the boy's almost inhuman reactions.

Tyrion had woken up days later in a bed not in the Tower of the Hand, but in a dim room in Maegor's Holdfast. By some miracle, his father and the Tyrells had come to save the city with close to 80,000 men and had taken Stannis in the rear, destroying what was left of the man's host and forcing him to retreat. Tywin Lannister had been regaled as a hero for weeks afterwards, and Tyrion had lain on his sickbed fuming. He of course received little to none of the credit and none of the rewards that should truly have been his as the man who had deigned to use the Wildfire for a proper purpose. And of course the one time he had tried to claim any reward, though it was his by right, his father had outright refused him and had humiliated him. Tyrion had asked for nothing since then, and then he had been promoted to the position of Maester of Coin in Littlefinger's absence. Tyrion had been so close to piecing together all the events that had led to his kidnapping when the man had gone to the Vale, and of course now they had no word for him, and the one piece of conclusive evidence that would have had even Littlefinger flustered had died on the Blackwater, in the form of Ser Mandon Moore.

News of the fall of Winterfell had been well received by Joffrey, as had the deaths of the two little Stark boys. It had fallen to Tyrion to tell Sansa the news. She had not wept, but there had been such sorrow in her eyes, it had broken Tyrion's heart. No girl should have suffer so much pain and suffering as the Stark girl had had to. Then his father had informed him that the Tyrells were scheming to marry Sansa to Willas, the crippled heir to Highgarden, Tyrion had been so close to suggesting that they should let it happen, but then his father had told him that he was to marry Sansa instead. His father was adamant that Sansa Stark was the key to the north, at the time he had not known how, the boy was winning all the battles he had fought and his wife had just given birth to a girl. And so he had married Sansa Stark in the Sept of Baelor, though neither of them was happy with the arrangement they made do. The worst thing was that Tyrion did actually desire his little wife, she was gorgeous and lovely to look upon, but she was terrified of him and after her treatment at the hands of Joff and Cersei, he could not truly blame her.

But for once in his miserable existence he resisted his more carnal urges and had not bedded her. Of course that had subjected him to much mockery amongst the court and particularly from his nephew, but as he now suspected that his not taking his rights may have spared Sansa from less pain than perhaps it should have. Word had come from the Twins of the deaths of Robb Stark and Catelyn Stark and several other prominent northmen and Riverlords during the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey. No word was made of Alys Stark or her and the Young Wolf's child, but his father did not seem overly concerned by that, for he had said that she would not survive for long not with a young babe and Ironborn in the North. Roose Bolton had been named Warden of North for the time being, and his bastard son would marry "Arya Stark" and become Lord of Winterfell until such a time that a child was born to him and Sansa. Tyrion had left to tell his wife the news, and found that she already knew. Her eyes were not red from the tears she had obviously been crying, Shae looked at him with an expression of such anger and shame he knew not what to say, nor did he know what words of comfort to give her.

Then the Dornishmen had come. Led by Prince Oberyn to claim the justice Tyrion had promised them and to take up the Dornish seat on the small council. Each day Prince Oberyn would ask him when justice would be given, and it took all of Tyrion's will power to not snap back that so long as his father lived, justice would never be given, Ser Gregor was too close to a pawn for Tywin Lannister to disperse with easily. Sansa, it seemed was cheered by the arrival of the Dornish contingent, for her cousin Jeyne Sand and the girl's mother Ashara Dayne had come with Prince Oberyn. The girl Tyrion had seen in Winterfell returned when Sansa was in the company of her cousin, she was all easy smiles and joyful laughs. Tyrion had been happy that his wife could find some joy in King's Landing, even if it came at a serious cost. Of course Joffrey had to ruin whatever happiness Sansa had. His fool of a nephew would always act the gentleman whenever he was with his betrothed Margaery Tyrell, but the one thing Sansa had confided in him was that Joffrey had turned into a complete monster when he was not with Margaery. He taunted Sansa and Jeyne, and she had told him that she had found Jeyne curled up in a ball one day in Sansa's old room crying her eyes out, bruises on her arms and neck, from what she would not say, though Tyrion had some sort of an idea, and he felt revulsion whenever he looked at his nephew now, and of course because the boy was King, he could get away with it. Tyrion made sure to provide Jeyne Sand with moon tea discreetly after Sansa had confided in him, it was the least he could do, though he did note that the Dornish contingent had gone from being relatively friendly to quite hostile, Lady Ashara, Lord Gargalen and Prince Oberyn especially. It was only a matter of time before something happened.

As such Tyrion was not sorry when Joffrey died. As far as he was concerned the boy had it coming. He was an arrogant, pompous ass, who was mean and would have been a worse king than Aerys the mad. And the only regret Tyrion had had was that he could not be the one to kill his cunt of a nephew himself and that the boy had died choking on pidegon pie, which Tyrion had had the misfortune to have had to have served him. That of course led to his sister accusing him of murder. Sansa had disappeared from the wedding and from King's Landing well before the bells of Baelor had tolled to signal Joffrey's death and he had a rough idea where she might be now, though he said not a word to his uncle Kevan nor his father or Lord Tyrell when questioned, though he suspected that Prince Oberyn knew where Sansa was as well.

His trial was a farce from beginning to end. : _Ser Addam Marbrand waited at the door with six gold cloaks. He had nothing to say this morning, it seemed. Another good man who thinks me a kinslayer. Tyrion summoned all the dignity he could find and waddled down the steps. He could feel them all watching him as he crossed the yard; the guards on the walls, the grooms by the stables, the scullions and washerwomen and serving girls. Inside the throne room, knights and lordlings moved aside to let them through, and whispered to their ladies._

_No sooner had Tyrion taken his place before the judges than another group of gold cloaks led in Shae._

_A cold hand tightened round his heart. Varys betrayed her, he thought. Then he remembered. No. I betrayed her myself. I should have left her with Lollys. Of course they'd question Sansa's maids, I'd do the same. Tyrion rubbed at the slick scar where his nose had been, wondering why Cersei had bothered. Shae knows nothing that can hurt me._

_"They plotted it together," she said, this girl he'd loved. "The Imp and Lady Sansa plotted it after the Young Wolf died. Sansa wanted revenge for her brother and Tyrion meant to have the throne. He was going to kill his sister next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head."_

_"How could you know all this?" demanded Prince Oberyn. "Why would the Imp pulge such plans to his wife's maid?"_

_"I overheard some, m'lord," said Shae, "and m'lady let things slip too. But most I had from his own lips. I wasn't only Lady Sansa's maid. I was his whore, all the time he was here in King's Landing. On the morning of the wedding, he dragged me down where they keep the dragon skulls and fucked me there with the monsters all around. And when I cried, he said I ought to be more grateful, that it wasn't every girl who got to be the king's whore. That was when he told me how he meant to be king. He said that poor boy Joffrey would never know his bride the way he was knowing me." She started sobbing then. "I never meant to be a whore, m'lords. I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw me at the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed he sent his wildlings to bring me to his tent. Shagga, the big one, and Timett with the burned eye. He said if I didn't pleasure him, he'd give me to them, so I did. Then he brought me to the city, so I'd be close when he wanted me. He made me do such shameful things . . . "_

_Prince Oberyn looked curious. "What sorts of things?"_

_"Unspeakable things." As the tears rolled slowly down that pretty face, no doubt every man in the hall wanted to take Shae in his arms and comfort her. "With my mouth and . . . other parts, m'lord. All my parts. He used me every way there was, and . . . he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister."_

_Oswald Kettleblack was the first to laugh. Boros and Meryn joined in, then Cersei, Ser Loras, and more lords and ladies than he could count. The sudden gale of mirth made the rafters ring and shook the Iron Throne. "It's true," Shae protested. "My giant of Lannister." The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils._

_I saved you all, Tyrion thought. I saved this vile city and all your worthless lives. There were hundreds in the throne room, every one of them laughing but his father. Or so it seemed. Even the Red Viper chortled, and Mace Tyrell looked like to bust a gut, but Lord Tywin Lannister sat between them as if made of stone, his fingers steepled beneath his chin._

_Tyrion pushed forward. "MY LORDS!" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard._

_His father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent._

_"Get this lying whore out of my sight," said Tyrion, "and I will give you your confession."_

_Lord Tywin nodded, gestured. Shae looked half in terror as the gold cloaks formed up around her. Her eyes met Tyrion's as they marched her from the wall. Was it shame he saw there, or fear? He wondered what Cersei had promised her. You will get the gold or jewels, whatever it was you asked for, he thought as he watched her back recede, but before the moon has turned she'll have you entertaining the gold cloaks in their barracks._

_Tyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. "Guilty," he said, "so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?"_

_Lord Tywin said nothing. Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. "You admit you poisoned the king?"_

_"Nothing of the sort," said Tyrion. "Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." He took a step toward his father. "I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy."_

_"This is folly, Tyrion," declared Lord Tywin. "Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf."_

_"That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life."_

_"Have you nothing to say in your defense?"_

_"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had." He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. "I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle."_

_"Have you taken leave of your wits?" his father said._

_"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!"_

_His sweet sister could not have been more pleased. "He has that right, my lords," she reminded the judges. "Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service."_

_Lord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. He slammed his fist down on the table, too angry to speak. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked the question. "Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?"_

_"He does, my lord." Prince Oberyn of Dorne rose to his feet. "The dwarf has quite convinced me."_

_The uproar was deafening. Tyrion took especial pleasure in the sudden doubt he glimpsed in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. "Let the issue be decided on the morrow," he declared in iron tones. "I wash my hands of it." He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side._

_Later, back in his tower cell, Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine and sent Podrick Payne off for cheese, bread, and olives. He doubted whether he could keep down anything heavier just now. Did you think I would go meekly, Father? he asked the shadow his candles etched upon the wall. I have too much of you in me for that. He felt strangely at peace, now that he had snatched the power of life and death from his father's hands and placed it in the hands of the gods. Assuming there are gods, and they give a mummer's fart. If not, then I'm in Dornish hands. No matter what happened, Tyrion had the satisfaction of knowing that he'd kicked Lord Tywin's plans to splinters. If Prince Oberyn won, it would further inflame Highgarden against the Dornish; Mace Tyrell would see the man who crippled his son helping the dwarf who almost poisoned his daughter to escape his rightful punishment. And if the Mountain triumphed, Doran Martell might well demand to know why his brother had been served with death instead of the justice Tyrion had promised him. Dorne might crown Myrcella after all._

_It was almost worth dying to know all the trouble he'd made. Will you come to see the end, Shae? Will you stand there with the rest, watching as Ser Ilyn lops my ugly head off? Will you miss your giant of Lannister when he's dead? He drained his wine, flung the cup aside, and sang lustily._

_He rode through the streets of the city,_

_down from his hill on high,_

_O'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,_

_he rode to a woman's sigh._

_For she was his secret treasure,_

_she was his shame and his bliss._

_And a chain and a keep are nothing,_

_compared to a woman's kiss._

_Ser Kevan did not visit him that night. He was probably with Lord Tywin, trying to placate the Tyrells. I have seen the last of that uncle, I fear. He poured another cup of wine. A pity he'd had Symon Silver Tongue killed before learning all the words of that song. It wasn't a bad song, if truth be told. Especially compared to the ones that would be written about him henceforth. "For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm," he sang. Perhaps he should write the other verses himself. If he lived so long._

_That night, surprisingly, Tyrion Lannister slept long and deep. He rose at first light, well rested and with a hearty appetite, and broke his fast on fried bread, blood sausage, applecakes, and a double helping of eggs cooked with onions and fiery Dornish peppers. Then he begged leave of his guards to attend his champion. Ser Addam gave his consent._

_Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. "Good morrow to you, my lord," the prince said. "Will you take a cup of wine?"_

_"Should you be drinking before battle?"_

_"I always drink before battle."_

_"That could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed."_

_Prince Oberyn laughed. "The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, I trust?"_

_"Only of killing Joffrey," Tyrion admitted. "I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is—"_

_"—large? So I have heard."_

_"He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it."_

_Prince Oberyn was unimpressed. "I have killed large men before. The trick is to get them off their feet. Once they go down, they're dead." The Dornishman sounded so blithely confident that Tyrion felt almost reassured, until he turned and said, "Daemon, my spear!" Ser Daemon tossed it to him, and the Red Viper snatched it from the air._

_"You mean to face the Mountain with a spear?" That made Tyrion uneasy all over again. In battle, ranks of massed spears made for a formidable front, but single combat against a skilled swordsman was a very different matter._

_"We are fond of spears in Dorne. Besides, it is the only way to counter his reach. Have a look, Lord Imp, but see you do not touch." The spear was turned ash eight feet long, the shaft smooth, thick, and heavy. The last two feet of that was steel: a slender leaf-shaped spearhead narrowing to a wicked spike. The edges looked sharp enough to shave with. When Oberyn spun the haft between the palms of his hand, they glistened black. Oil? Or poison? Tyrion decided that he would sooner not know. "I hope you are good with that," he said doubtfully._

_"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms . . . I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you." He set the spear aside. "It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock . . . especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell."_

_Does the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. "A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it."_

_"Plan on a lengthy visit." Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. "You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny . . . the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead."_

_If Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. "I believe I will have that cup of wine," said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone._

_"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. "It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock . . . but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised._

_"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue."_

_Yes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart._

_"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?"_

_"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"_

_"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock."_

_"Cersei and Jaime."_

_"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept for a person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Or a companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei to me. Perhaps both."_

_"Perhaps," said Tyrion, "but my father—"_

_"—ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said." Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. "At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock._

_"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead."_

_"Which offer she took for an outrage."_

_"It was. Even you can see that, surely?"_

_"Oh, surely." It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. "Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt."_

_"She thought so," Prince Oberyn agreed, "but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos." Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. "Elia and her children have waited long for justice." Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. "But this day they shall have it."_

_The outer ward had been chosen for the combat. Tyrion had to skip and run to keep up with Prince Oberyn's long strides. The snake is eager, he thought. Let us hope he is venomous as well. The day was grey and windy. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds, but Tyrion could no more have said who was going to win that fight than the one on which his life depended._

_It looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny a head and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view. They shouted and pointed at the sight of Tyrion._

_Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor. In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath a long yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist._

_If Ser Gregor was suffering from wounds, Tyrion could see no sign of it from across the yard. He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Even Prince Oberyn's paramour paled at the sight of him. "You are going to fight that?" Ellaria Sand said in a hushed voice._

_"I am going to kill that," her lover replied carelessly._

_Tyrion had his own doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at Prince Oberyn, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him . . . or even better, Jaime. The Red Viper was lightly armored; greaves, vambraces, gorget, spaulder, steel codpiece. Elsewise Oberyn was clad in supple leather and flowing silks. Over his byrnie he wore his scales of gleaming copper, but mail and scale together would not give him a quarter the protection of Gregor's heavy plate. With its visor removed, the prince's helm was effectively no better than a halfhelm, lacking even a nasal. His round steel shield was brightly polished, and showed the sun-and-spear in red gold, yellow gold, white gold, and copper._

_Dance around him until he's so tired he can hardly lift his arm, then put him on his back. The Red Viper seemed to have the same notion as Bronn. But the sellsword had been blunt about the risks of such tactics. I hope to seven hells that you know what you are doing, snake._

_A platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful._

_Lord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter._

_Ser Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed._

_There were fifty yards between them. Prince Oberyn advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering. When the two men were ten yards apart, the Red Viper stopped and called out, "Have they told you who I am?"_

_Ser Gregor grunted through his breaths. "Some dead man." He came on, inexorable._

_The Dornishman slid sideways. "I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne," he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him in sight. "Princess Elia was my sister."_

_"Who?" asked Gregor Clegane._

_Oberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath. "Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne," the Red Viper hissed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."_

_Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."_

_"Did you come to talk or to fight?"_

_"I came to hear you confess." The Red Viper landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. The long spear lanced in above his sword. Like a serpent's tongue it flickered in and out, feinting low and landing high, jabbing at groin, shield, eyes. The Mountain makes for a big target, at the least, Tyrion thought. Prince Oberyn could scarcely miss, though none of his blows was penetrating Ser Gregor's heavy plate. The Dornishman kept circling, jabbing, then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane is losing sight of him. The Mountain's helm had a narrow eyeslit, severely limiting his vision. Oberyn was making good use of that, and the length of his spear, and his quickness._

_It went on that way for what seemed a long time. Back and forth they moved across the yard, and round and round in spirals, Ser Gregor slashing at the air while Oberyn's spear struck at arm, and leg, twice at his temple. Gregor's big wooden shield took its share of hits as well, until a dog's head peeped out from under the star, and elsewhere the raw oak showed through. Clegane would grunt from time to time, and once Tyrion heard him mutter a curse, but otherwise he fought in a sullen silence._

_Not Oberyn Martell. "You raped her," he called, feinting. "You murdered her," he said, dodging a looping cut from Gregor's greatsword. "You killed her children," he shouted, slamming the spearpoint into the giant's throat, only to have it glance off the thick steel gorget with a screech._

_"Oberyn is toying with him," said Ellaria Sand._

_That is fool's play, thought Tyrion. "The Mountain is too bloody big to be any man's toy."_

_All around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Kingsguard tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big white shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only six of the men in white armor._

_"You raped her." Prince Oberyn parried a savage cut with his spearhead. "You murdered her." He sent the spearpoint at Clegane's eyes, so fast the huge man flinched back. "You killed her children." The spear flickered sideways and down, scraping against the Mountain's breastplate. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." The spear was two feet longer than Ser Gregor's sword, more than enough to keep him at an awkward distance. He hacked at the shaft whenever Oberyn lunged at him, trying to lop off the spearhead, but he might as well have been trying to hack the wings off a fly. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." Gregor tried to bull rush, but Oberyn skipped aside and circled round his back. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."_

_"Be quiet." Ser Gregor seemed to be moving a little slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite so high as it had when the contest began. "Shut your bloody mouth."_

_"You raped her," the prince said, moving to the right._

_"Enough!" Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn's head, but the Dornishman backstepped once more. "You murdered her," he said._

_"SHUT UP!" Gregor charged headlong, right at the point of the spear, which slammed into his right breast then slid aside with a hideous steel shriek. Suddenly the Mountain was close enough to strike, his huge sword flashing in a steel blur. The crowd was screaming as well. Oberyn slipped the first blow and let go of the spear, useless now that Ser Gregor was inside it. The second cut the Dornishman caught on his shield. Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang sending the Red Viper reeling. Ser Gregor followed, bellowing. He doesn't use words, he just roars like an animal, Tyrion thought. Oberyn's retreat became a headlong backward flight mere inches ahead of the greatsword as it slashed at his chest, his arms, his head._

_The stable was behind him. Spectators screamed and shoved at each other to get out of the way. One stumbled into Oberyn's back. Ser Gregor hacked down with all his savage strength. The Red Viper threw himself sideways, rolling. The luckless stableboy behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor's sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. "Shut UP!" the Mountain howled at the stableboy's scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad's head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains. Hundreds of spectators suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the guilt or innocence of Tyrion Lannister, judging by the way they pushed and shoved at each other to escape the yard._

_But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name."_

_The Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. "You talk too much," he grumbled. "You make my head hurt."_

_"I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne."_

_The Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on . . . and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn._

_The sun of Dorne, Tyrion told himself, but it was Gregor Clegane who moved first to put the sun at his back. This is a dim and brutal man, but he has a warrior's instincts._

_The Red Viper crouched, squinting, and sent his spear darting forward again. Ser Gregor hacked at it, but the thrust had only been a feint. Off balance, he stumbled forward a step._

_Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free. "Elia. Say it! Elia. Of Dorne!" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. "Say it!"_

_Tyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down._

_Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. "ELIA OF DORNE!" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back._

_The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. "EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised._

_Ser Gregor tried to rise, The broken spear had gone through him, and was pinning him to the ground. He wrapped both hands about the shaft, grunting, but could not pull it out. Beneath him was a spreading pool of red. "I am feeling more innocent by the instant," Tyrion told Ellaria Sand beside him._

_Prince Oberyn moved closer. "Say the name!" He put a foot on the Mountain's chest and raised the greatsword with both hands. Whether he intended to hack off Gregor's head or shove the point through his eyeslit was something Tyrion would never know._

_Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dent in the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover._

_"Elia of Dorne," they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. "I killed her screaming whelp." He thrust his free hand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. "Then I raped her." Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. "Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this." He never heard his father speak the words that condemned him. Perhaps no words were necessary. I put my life in the Red Viper's hands, and he dropped it. When he remembered, too late, that snakes had no hands, Tyrion began to laugh hysterically._

_He was halfway down the serpentine steps before he realized that the gold cloaks were not taking him back to his tower room. "I've been consigned to the black cells," he said. They did not bother to answer. Why waste your breath on the dead?_

That night he sat alone in his cell, waiting for death to come for him. He thought of his life, short as it had been, and of loves lost and gained. Shae, she had betrayed him in the end as he knew she would, Tysha no more than a whore paid to make him a man. He was surprised when he saw his brother Jaime enter the cell, a torch in his hand. "Jaime? Have you come to kill me?"

"No," his brother's voice was hoarse. "I've come to save you little brother."

Tyrion laughed. "How?"

"Varys."

"Of course, well then let us not delay." Tyrion said walking forward. Jaime's outstretched hand stopped him short though.

"Did you do it?" Jaime asked.

Tyrion turned his head up and looked at his brother with his mismatched eyes. "Did I do what brother? Kill the king? Or Kill your son?"

"Both."

"No."

Tyrion walked out of the cell, but Jaime did not follow. "Tyrion there's something you need to know."

He stopped, "Oh?"

"I am sorry brother. For all of this."

"You have nothing to apologise for Jaime." Tyrion said.

"I do," his brother whispered. Tyrion turned round and looked at his brother, his hero. Jaime swallowed and spoke then his voice hoarse once more. "About Tysha." Tyrion felt something inside of him tighten at her name. His brother went on. "She was never a whore brother. She was some girl we found on the road, but later after you married her, father made me swear to lie to you and tell you she was a whore."

Tyrion felt his heart break, Tysha, his love, his world, a lie, it was all a lie. He was angry now. "You lied to me Jaime. You did nothing when father ordered her raped and beaten. You could have stopped it, you could have stopped him. Why didn't you?"

Jaime didn't reply. Tyrion gave a harsh laugh. "Well then let me tell you something about our sister Jaime. You might think she's been faithful to you. But she hasn't. She's fucked Lancel, the Kettleblacks and Moonboy."

He walked out then, leaving Jaime behind in the darkness. He found Varys in the tunnels beneath the prison, and walked with him. He killed his father and Shae, he would have killed Varys too, except he needed the man to get him away from here.

In a dark haze he boarded a ship bound for Pentos, leaving Westeros and his family behind. Vowing revenge.

* * *

**Alys**

They had heard the sounds of fighting and screaming of the dying men all the way from the woods where they were camped. At first she worried that the Lannisters had snuck up on her husband and the Freys, but then Greywind had begun howling and Shiera had started crying and she knew with an iron certainty that the Lannisters were not attacking them, she could not explain how she knew, she just did. She ordered her father and his men as well as Owen Norrey to mount up their horses and ride, Greywind followed them.

As they rode through the woods, they saw fires being lit in the camps of the northmen; they saw men with the Two Towers of House Frey killing northmen indiscriminately. Then when she saw men with the flayed man of House Bolton walk into the hall she screamed. At the same time Greywind howled. Her father and Owen Norrey had to kick her horse into moving to stop her from riding toward the Twins, they were followed though by men from the crossing. One of Lord Walder's bastards followed them, with some 200 men. They lost them when they got into the Neck, the marshes and the woods swallowed them up and hid them from sight.

They kept riding for what seemed like days, but perhaps was only a few hours looking for the floating castle of Greywater Watch, but it was the cranongmen who found them, who brought them to the home of House Reed. It was there that they were reunited with Galbert Glover and Lady Mormont, it was there they learnt of the Red Wedding, of the treachery carried out by House Frey and House Bolton, of the death of her husband, her good mother and countless other northmen and Rivermen. It was there that they learnt of Roose Bolton being named Warden of the North; it was there that they learnt of how he and Walder Frey had conspired with Tywin Lannister to bring about the downfall of the Starks and the northmen. Throughout all of this Alys remained numb, her husband was dead, Greywind was dead, her brothers were dead- except for Harry, though he might very well soon be dead as well- the only thing that kept her sane was her daughter Shiera. Shiera was only a two months old and her father was dead, yet looking after her, protecting her, that became Alys's main role in the time they spent in Greywater Watch, she did not pay much attention when her father and Lords Reed, Glover and Lady Mormont discussed what to do next. She vaguely recalled them talking of how Moat Cailin was weakly defended but still difficult to take, and how there was a shorter way around it to get into the north proper that Lord Howland would show them, she remembered the discussions of whether or not to go to Castle Black still or to retreat to Karhold. Castle Black was decided upon when they learnt that Roose Bolton and his men would be marching north to deal with the Ironborn alongside men gathered together by Ramsay Snow, now Bolton.

They rode north hard and fast, and somehow with the luck of the gods managed to arrive in Castle Black with little to no trouble. They spent the journey riding during the late hours of the night and the early hours of the day, and as such it was an exhausting journey for Alys and Shiera, but they survived, and they arrived at Castle Black three weeks after she had last seen Robb alive, to find Jon Sand helping prepare the Night's Watch for an upcoming battle with the Wildlings. Jon saw to it that they were kept safe and secure during the battle with the Thenns, and afterwards spoke to them about Robb and his will, he was reluctant to act on it with the Wildlings still to come marching on the Wall at any day, and so discussions were kept secret between Alys, her lord father, Lord Glover and Lady Mormont. She knew Jon was an honourable man, and would more than likely be torn between wanting to honour his vows to the Watch and wanting to fulfil his cousin's last request, more so because she knew that Robb and Jon were more like brothers than cousins, Robb had told her so on many occasions.

Then the Wildlings had attacked in force, and Jon had had to command the Watch in its successful defence of the wall, only to be later arrested for crimes of desertion. He was eventually freed and sent to go and treat with Mance Rayder, but before he could do that, Stannis Baratheon brought his men from the south and destroyed the King Beyond the Walls host. After the battle, Alys had found herself, her father; Lord Glover, Lady Mormont and Jon sat in a room that had once served as accommodation for royalty, as they discussed what was to be done. By then Jon had been cleared of any wrongdoing and elections were being held to decide who the next Lord Commander should be, but Stannis wished to decide the future of the north. When presented with Robb's will the would be king had looked at it and grimaced and then had looked at Jon and told him that if he wished he could become Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, all he would have to do was marry Alys and get children on her. Alys knew Jon was conflicted but she was relieved when he agreed to do it, she would rather it be Jon than some southerner.

Once that was sorted and out of the way, Jon as Lord of Winterfell sent out ravens to the bannermen he could trust- House Dustin, Ryswell and Umber under Hothar Umber had declared for Roose Bolton, as had Hornwood, Cerwyn and Tallhart albeit reluctantly- her father, lord Glover, Lady Mormont had bent the knee to Stannis and recognised him as the rightful king and Jon as Lord of Winterfell. Then their wedding took place a week after that, and the mountain clans came in attendance as did Mors Umber and her great uncle Arnolf Karstark. Each brought with them some hundreds of men to add to Stannis's cause.

The day before they were due to set out for Last Hearth, Benjen Stark returned from beyond the wall bringing with him dire tidings, but no one seemed ready to pay attention to those tidings just yet, as Jon and Robb's uncle was elected the 998TH Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Alys was thankful though that Stannis had decided to leave his red woman back at Castle Black; there was something about her that deeply unnerved Alys.

Relations between herself and Jon were initially strained. She was still deeply in mourning over Robb, and of course she loved Robb deeply, that was not emotion that could simply be turned off. Jon himself was grieving for his cousins, and his uncle, and countless other things as well. Though that in itself did seem to help them both overcome their grief, as it enabled them to talk about the things that troubled them and get their burdens of their chests, and it helped she supposed that Jon and she had been friends before he had gone to take the black so he was not a complete stranger to her, nor she to him. Gradually their relationship changed from strained to one not of love, not yet, but one of fondness for one another, it helped as well that Jon seemed to completely dote on Shiera and Shiera seemed to love him.

When they reached Last Hearth, it was to the news that Roose Bolton had retaken Moat Cailin from the Ironborn with help from his bastard son and was currently making his way to Winterfell for the wedding of his bastard son to Arya Stark. That news had come as a complete shock to all of them, for they all thought Arya was dead or missing, and so they all believed that this Arya Stark was no more than an imposter, someone sent north by the Lannisters to make the Bolton's hold on the north more secure. It was also at Last Hearth that they received word from King's Landing of Joffrey Baratheon and Tywin Lannister's deaths and the escape of Tyrion Lannister. The Imp was accused of killing his nephew and his father, as was Sansa, but Alys and Jon both deeply doubted that Sansa would do such a thing, something that was strengthened when a raven came from Castle Black sent from Starfall originally which wrote that Jon's mother and Sister were safely back in Dorne along with a certain she wolf.

Then a few days later, Jon, King Stannis and her father and their men marched for Deepwood Motte to liberate it from the Ironborn, whilst she and Shiera remained in Last Hearth. The day they received the raven informing them of the liberation of Deepwood Motte, was the day Alys realised she was pregnant once more.


	10. Vengeance Strikes

**Jon**

It all still felt like a dream. All of it. Since he had taken his vows in the godswood near Castle Black, everything seemed to have been happening to very quickly that he was struggling to keep up with events. Sometimes he still found it hard to believe that his uncle was dead, let alone Bran and Rickon and Robb. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he had broken his vows and had ridden with the wildlings, had shared meat and mead with Mance Rayder and Tormund Giantsbane, that he had killed Qhorin Halfhand, that he had lain with Ygritte. Ygritte... that was a dream that Jon did not wish to relive. She had been part of the party led by the Magnar of Thenn that had attacked Castle Black from the south. The Magnar and his band of wildlings had died easily enough, cut down by arrows, swords and boiling oil. As the sun was setting that day, Jon Sand had walked down from his place atop the wall knowing that they may have won this battle, but that Mance Rayder was marching south with a host four times as big as anything the watch could call upon. He had found Ygritte lying in a bed of blood two arrows through her chest and heart, he had cradled her head and had held her in his arms as she had died. He had been the one to burn her, on a separate pyre from those of the fallen wildlings and black brothers, his fellow brothers had given him that much space.

He had had barely anytime to grieve when a raven had come from the south, bearing news of Robb's death, how he had been mercilessly slain at his uncle Edmure's wedding along with Aunt Catelyn. The letter written in the hand of the Blackfish spoke of how Robb had gone to the Twins expecting to be allowed north once his uncle was married, but of how the Freys had betrayed him, and how it had been Roose Bolton who had been the one to kill Robb. Something inside Jon already broken from news of his uncle, Bran and Rickon and Ygritte's deaths completely shattered and Jon felt such sadness and anger well up inside him. If he had had his way he would have ridden south there and then to deal with the Ironborn, to deal with the Freys, Boltons and Lannisters. He had sworn to himself that before he died all those who had hurt his family would die, and they would die by his blade. Two days after the letter came bearing news of Robb's death, Robb's widow Alys Stark arrived at Castle Black with her lord father, and 50 men. With Mance Rayder and his host a day's ride away at best; Jon had done what he could to make sure they had safe and warm rooms. The days he did not spend helping to prepare the wall for the oncoming Wildling assault, he sat and spoke with Alys and her lord father and he played with Robb's daughter Shiera, she reminded Jon so much of Sansa that he felt something more in his heart begin to tear and break.

Then the wildlings had attacked. Giants and mammoths and free folk, the army of the wild came out in force in the pitch black. Men died, fires were little, trebuchets were loaded oil was poured and when the dawn finally came, there was still thousands of wildlings, giants and mammoths riding south toward the Wall. Donal Noye had gone to defend the passes underneath the Wall, and had not returned to the Wall. Jon held the wall through thick and thin. As Giants and Mammoths rammed the wall, Wildlings fired arrows and tried to clamber up past the wall, all died, through fire, poured oil or flame arrows, they died. When the sun came to its peak, the fighting stopped and the wildlings fled back to wherever it was Mance was camped with the rest of his host. The Night's Watch had held for the day, they had held and Jon had never felt as relieved as he had then, when he saw Mammoths fleeing back toward wherever it was they lived, to where Mance Rayder hid.

There had not been much time for him to celebrate though, for early the next morning Ser Allister Thorne and Janos Slynt had returned from Eastwatch and Bowen Marsh had returned from the fighting on the Bridge of Skulls, and Jon had been thrown in an ice cell, arrested for desertion. Something that Thorne and Slynt had learnt from Rattleshirt, one of the wildlings Jon had ridden with on the Halfhand's orders who had confessed to Jon's desertion. Jon had been brought before a council of the elder sworn brothers, Maester Aemon, Bowen Marsh, Thorne and Ser Denys Mallister had all stood in trial and listened as Jon had recounted the truth, how the Halfhand had ordered him to do whatever he had to, to learn more about the wildlings and their plans and to never balk from whatever he was bid to do. When he told them how he had been ordered to kill the Halfhand and had done so, he knew that that had turned several of the sworn brothers in the room against him, but he also knew that Maester Aemon, Ser Denys and Bowen Marsh were willing to listen to what he said, and how he had come back to the Wall and warned them of the wildling attack, and upcoming invasion. Thorne and Slynt however, were desperate for his head, Jon knew that Thorne had hated him for the longest of times, and Slynt had been the one to take his uncle's head had been the one to betray his uncle. He was put back in an ice cell after the trial, only to be brought out again and sent to treat- or assassinates- Mance Rayder, if he failed to do so he would be condemned and executed as a traitor.

Just as he had been trying to work out how to do the deed he had been sent for, stood as he was in Mance Rayder's tent, Stannis Baratheon attacked the wildlings and took them in flank. That caused chaos amongst the ill-organised wildlings, which were still to widely spread out from their earlier attempts to take the wall. Stannis Baratheon smashed Mance Rayder's host, and captured the King Beyond the Wall as well as several other important wildling commanders, though some of the wildlings led by Tormund Giantsbane and The Weeper fled back north, for the time being.

Jon was freed from his imprisonment, and then that evening Stannis had called a meeting between himself and the northern lords who had come with Alys from the red wedding. It was during this meeting that Jon was told by Stannis Baratheon, that if he were to marry Alys, Stannis would legitimise him and make him Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. It was something Jon could not believe, when he had been a child back in Starfall and sometimes even in Winterfell itself when he had been fostered there, he would dream of what it would have been like if his father had married his mother, and he was truly the heir to Winterfell, but often those thoughts would make him feel guilty and would hurt too much, and over time he had gradually come to accept what his place in the world was. Besides, he believed that Winterfell truly belonged to Shiera now, though Stannis had said to him there and then, that if he did not marry Alys, then she would be married off to one of Stannis's loyal bannermen and Winterfell would no longer belong to the Starks.

That had struck a nerve, there had always been a Stark of Winterfell since the Age of Heroes, if not longer. Winterfell and the north belonged to no other family but the Starks. But Jon could not see how he could make Stannis see this without breaking his vows once more and marrying his cousin's widow. That had been when Rickard Karstark had produced a piece of paper with the seals of several northern and Riverlords, and stated that it was Robb's last will and testament. Stannis had taken the paper and had read it, and then had grunted and passed the paper onto Jon. The minute he set eyes on the paper he knew that it was genuine. He would recognise his cousin's handwriting anywhere, as he read the will and its contents he felt something strange begin to stir inside of him. Robb had named him his heir, the heir to kingdom of the north and the Riverlands. Whilst that in itself had changed Jon's perspective on Stannis's offer- for if his cousin had named him heir as his last wish, and had asked him to protect Alys and Shiera, then Jon was honour bound to do so- it was the phrase that he used to finish the Will that really made Jon stop and think. _The hammer will soon be striking the anvil. _He had not seen nor heard that phrase in years, not since before the king had come to Winterfell; it had become a family saying in Winterfell just as Winter is Coming were the words of House Stark. He looked at those words written on the paper in Robb's hand, and he knew then that he had to accept Stannis's offer, not only because there should always be a Stark in Winterfell, but because he needed to protect his cousin's widow and daughter now, more so than ever.

And so Jon Sand had been freed from his oaths to the Night's Watch, which had been made under the threat of something much worse from the Lannister Queen, and had bent the knee along with the Northern Lords that had come with Alys, and had risen Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He had married Alys three days later in a ceremony held in the godswood in front of Castle Black. Lord Karstark, Lord Glover, Lady Mormont, The Liddle, The Wull, and The Norrey were all present for the wedding. Once the wedding and the bedding was done with, Jon found himself spending more and more time in council meetings with Stannis and the lords who were now his bannermen. He knew that he would need to prove himself to them, they had fought and bled beside Robb, had seen Robb go from being a boy to a king, he would need to prove himself worthy of their loyalty, just as his uncle had and Robb had.

Stannis had wanted to march straight for the Dreadfort, and Lord Karstark had been in favour of doing so as well. But Jon and Lord Glover had argued against doing so. The Dreadfort had once survived a siege for three years when a King ruled from Winterfell, armies would smash themselves to bits on the castle's strong and thick walls. No it would be better to march west to Deepwood Motte and drive out the Ironborn there, better to win the rest of the north's loyalty. It was whilst they were in Castle Black discussing what to do, that they received a raven from Mors Umber, the man's brother had declared for Roose Bolton, simply because the Freys still held the Greatjon, but Mors assured Jon- for the letter had been written to Jon, not Stannis- that Hothar Umber was still loyal to the Starks, and would do all he could to undermine Roose Bolton. Mors opened the gates of Last Hearth to Jon and Stannis and their men, and so they made plans to march south for Last Hearth.

But before they could do so, Jon's uncle Benjen had returned from the north. He had been gone for two years, had gotten lost in the Land of Always Winter and had reported dangerous and worrying tidings from the north. It had pained Jon to tell his uncle about what had happened to their family since he had been gone. The look of sheer pain that crossed his uncle's face as he told him of Uncle Ned, Robb, Aunt Catelyn and Bran and Rickon's deaths broke Jon up once more. Benjen had agreed that it was right for Jon to take up Robb's place and defend the north from the Lannisters and the Boltons. His uncle had been elected Lord Commander before Jon had left for Last Hearth.

Throughout all this though, Jon always made sure that Alys- his wife now- was well looked after and that she and Shiera were cared for and wanted for nothing. It helped he supposed that they had been friends before he had taken the black. It made it easier to speak with her about his worries and his concerns. One of which included Stannis and his red woman, and her devotion to this Red God. After the battle for Castle Black, several wildlings had been burned alive, including Mance Rayder. Jon had done one last act as a brother of the Night's Watch he had sent Sam, Maester Aemon, Gilly and Mance Rayder's actual babe south on a ship bound for Oldtown, he would not have a child be burnt for some sacrifice. The red woman believed Stannis to be a hero of legend, and whilst Jon was happy for her to go about spouting these claims, he would not let her try and change the religion that the North worshipped. The Andals had tried to invade the north and change it, and had been kicked out, and Jon knew that should Stannis begin burning the weirwood trees in the North, he would lose their support and Jon had no intention of allowing the weirwoods or the godswoods to be burnt.

They arrived in Last Hearth as the snows were beginning to fall properly, heralding the end of autumn and the beginning of winter. The Mountain clans had brought between them some 2000 men; Lady Mormont assured them that her daughter Alysanne would bring with her 500 men and women to Deepwood Motte. Mors Umber had with him some 1000 men though most were green boys- it felt odd calling them that when Jon himself had only been involved in two real battles- Lord Rickard assured them that his uncle Arnolf would bring the remaining men from Karhold with him when they marched on Winterfell. Last Hearth brought with it more dire news, for Mors Umber told them that Ramsay Snow- Bolton's bastard- was marrying Arya Stark. Jon was convinced that it was not the real Arya, but all the same he could not help the feeling of sorrow and anger that engulfed him. He knew then that they would need to take Deepwood Motte and soon before Bolton's bastard could get Arya pregnant- if it were actually her- And so they marched.

They marched through the Wolfswood during the night, through the snow that was becoming ever thicker and caught the Ironborn as they tried to flee back to their longships. It was a fierce fight, but it was short. The Ironborn were disorganized and lacked discipline, it was every man for him. Jon hacked and slashed through the Ironborn, painting the ground red with their blood. Each man he killed was a mark of revenge and justice for Bran and Rickon. Eventually the Ironborn surrendered, and their leader Asha Greyjoy, Theon's sister was taken prisoner along with several other Ironborn. Alysanne Mormont and her bears from Bear Island had burnt the Ironborn's ships to smithereens and those that tried to flee were slain in the wood.

Deepwood Motte was liberated from the Ironborn, and the Northmen began to rally even further to Stannis's side. There was some feasting and celebrating in the Motte after the victory, but it was not too over the top, for Winterfell still stood in Bolton hands, and so long as it did the north would never be rid of the Lannisters and their lackeys. Good news came through in the form of a coded letter from Hothar Umber to his brother. Mors read that there was tension amongst the northmen in Winterfell. Bolton's hold on their allegiance was fragile at best, many were angry with the man for siding with the Freys because of the red wedding, and because of the atrocities that his bastard had committed in the past. Of Arya there was little mentioned except that the Bastard of Bolton had wed her and bedded her. Alys also sent a letter stating that she and Shiera were doing well in Last Hearth and that she was with child. Jon had been surprised at that, they had only lain together twice since their marriage- the day of their wedding, and the night before he rode off for war- he had not wished to do anything to soon because of what had happened with Robb. He saw his wife more as a friend and confidant than as a lover, but he was happy nonetheless it was something he had always dreamed of, having a wife and a family to love.

Once the celebrations were ended, they began planning how to take Winterfell. Here was where Jon truly felt useful, he had spent six years in Winterfell and had gotten to know it very, very well during that time, mainly because Robb and Uncle Ned had allowed him to. SO it was that he advised Stannis. "It would not do to go for a direct attack, or siege of Winterfell. No matter if the castle is burnt and a ruin of a former glory. It will stand a siege for time that we do not have Your Grace. Roose Bolton is too cautious a man to draw out into open battle. So you must make him curious. I would send out scouts here, (he pointed to the Crofter's Village) and here (he pointed to the Tumbledown tower) send them waiving your banner, and the man's own scouts will capture them and draw Bolton out. Then I would send a man, just one not more to the gates of Winterfell where he could be captured. Have that man report that you are in the Crofter's Village. Roose Bolton will begin to panic. If his control over the men is as lax as Whorsebane says it is, he will want to separate them, he will send his bastard out to deal with you. Keep the main body of your host camped in the middle of the Wolfswood, and have your scouts in the Crofter's Village lead Ramsay Snow to you, then bring the men from the Tumbledown back and have men situated behind the trees, Ramsay Snow will walk into butchery."

The northern lords agreed to the plan as did Stannis, and so they marched. Winter was coming for House Bolton and House Frey, and when it came and went, they would not be alive; Jon would make sure of that.

* * *

**Jaime**

It had been a long and tiring journey back to King's Landing. Lady Catelyn had freed him, and then her brother had sent riders after himself, Brienne and his cousin Cleos. The riders had missed them, but the Brave Companions had not. Vargo Hoat and his men had killed Cleos and then had been about to rape Brienne, when Jaime had got involved. His words had cost him his left hand, not his sword hand no, but it had still made him a cripple. He had been brought before Roose Bolton and Bolton had discussed various things, such as the northern attack on Duskendale, the Lannister-Tyrell alliance and the fall of Winterfell. He had then discussed what he was to do with Jaime, considering that a bounty had been put on his head by Robb Stark, who was Bolton's king. Bolton had said that a good lord would return the Kingslayer to his king and get the rewards, but then he had said, but how was said king to give the reward when he was without a kingdom, and besides there was three kings in the realm and which one was the one that would benefit him the most. Eventually Bolton had sent him on his way back to King's Landing with his maester Qyburn and some of his men. He had deigned to leave Brienne behind though, for the Goats entertainment.

Something about that had sat poorly with Jaime, he knew not what it was even now. Perhaps it had something to with this new perspective he had gained from losing his hand, but like a fool he had gone back to Harrenhal and had rescued Brienne and had brought her with him to King's Landing. No one recognised him when he entered the city gates, he had cut his hair and had a scraggly beard, and so he had managed to go by relatively unnoticed in the streets. Brienne had not. But Jaime had managed to smooth talk both of their ways through the city relatively unscathed and had even managed to bring himself to his sister's rooms, expecting to be reunited with her passionately. Instead he heard the sounds of her being pleasured, curious he had opened the door by just a fraction and had found some brute of a man pounding away on her as she writhed and moaned in pleasure. He had felt such anger then, and had he been the man he had been before the war had started he would have walked right in then and there and cut the man off his sister before burying his sword in the man's throat. But he was not that man anymore; he had merely closed the door quietly behind him and walked on to find his father.

His father had looked at him with something akin to horror and then relief when he realised that it was not Jaime's sword hand that was missing. His father had told him there and then about Joffrey's death and how Cersei was accusing Tyrion of doing the deed. When he asked his father if he believed her, Lord Tywin said nothing merely stared at Jaime with a piercing look. His father then proceeded to give him a Valyrian steel sword made out of Ned Stark's own blade Ice and also asked him once more to resign from the Kingsguard and assume his position as heir to Casterly Rock. He had been unsure how to answer, at one point in time he knew he would have argued with his father about doing such a thing, he would have wanted to stay in the Kingsguard, stay near Cersei. But after seeing her with that brute of a man, and clearly enjoying herself he was not so sure. He asked his father time to consider the offer before he made his decision. And surprisingly his father consented.

He then spent the next few days at Tyrion's trial and gathering what information he could about the events of Joffrey's death and Sansa Stark's suspicious disappearance. No one knew where she could have gone to, though some of the servants and the minor nobles of the court, no doubt keen to get better acquainted with the Kingslayer and perhaps earn his favour, told him that they had seen the Stark girl spending an unusual amount of time with the Dornishmen. That did not surprise Jaime, he knew that the Stark Girl had a Dornish cousin- a bastard- but still a cousin, who was a girl, whom if he remembered correctly had been the reason Jon Sand had been sent to the Wall because he had beaten Joffrey to an inch of his life for insulting said girl. He thought nothing of it, and when Tyrion was pronounced guilty during his trial by combat because all thought that Prince Oberyn was dead, Jaime could not stand by and let his little brother be killed. He had pressured Varys into freeing his brother, and then like a fool had told him about Tysha, and Tyrion had reacted as Jaime had feared he would do all those years ago, and then had told him that Cersei had been fucking Lancel, the Kettleblacks and Moonboy. Before leaving.

The next day Lord Tywin was found dead, an arrow through his stomach, a whore strangled to death in his bed. Tyrion was responsible for the deed, Jaime knew and yet he could not bring himself to tell his sister that he had been the one to free Tyrion, and therefore was indirectly responsible for their father's death. No instead he led several fruitless searches of the black cells for Tyrion and even more to find Varys, the spider who had wisely disappeared into the ether after that night and had not been seen since. Something had changed between Jaime and Cersei as well. He no longer lusted or longed for her as he did in the past, something about seeing her with another man and moaning in pleasure had broken him, he refused all of her advances and refused her offer to become Tommem's hand and instead suggested that she make their uncle Kevan hand or perhaps even Randyll Tarly. She rebuked his suggestions and called him a fool.

It was nearly a relief when she sent him off to Riverrun to lift the siege there.

_The brooch that fastened Ser Brynden Tully's cloak was a black fish, wrought in jet and gold. His ringmail was grim and grey. Over it he wore greaves, gorget, gauntlets, pauldron, and poleyns of blackened steel, none half so dark as the look upon his face as he waited for Jaime Lannister at the end of the drawbridge, alone atop a chestnut courser caparisoned in red and blue._

_He loves me not. Tully had a craggy face, deeply lined and windburnt beneath a shock of stiff grey hair, but Jaime could still see the great knight who had once enthralled a squire with tales of the Ninepenny Kings. Honor's hooves clattered against the planks of the drawbridge. Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak._

_He drew up a yard from Ser Brynden, and inclined his head to the older man. "Kingslayer," said Tully._

_That he would make that name the first word from his mouth spoke volumes, but Jaime was resolved to keep his temper. "Blackfish," he responded. "Thank you for coming."_

_"I assume you have returned to fulfill the oaths you swore my niece," Ser Brynden said. "As I recall, you promised Catelyn her daughters in return for your freedom." His mouth tightened. "Yet I do not see the girls. Where are they?"_

_Must he make me say it? "I do not have them."_

_"Pity. Do you wish to resume your captivity? Your old cell is still available. We have put fresh rushes on the floor."_

_And a nice new pail for me to shit in, I don't doubt. "That was thoughtful of you, ser, but I fear I must decline. I prefer the comforts of my pavilion."_

_"Whilst Catelyn enjoys the comforts of her grave."_

_I had no hand in Lady Catelyn's death, he might have said, and her daughters were gone before I reached King's Landing. It was on his tongue to speak of Brienne and the sword he'd given her, but the Blackfish was looking at him the way that Eddard Stark had looked at him when he'd found him on the Iron Throne with the Mad King's blood upon his blade. "I came to speak of the living, not the dead. Of those who need not die, but shall . . ."_

_". . . unless I hand you Riverrun. Is this where you threaten to hang Edmure?" Beneath his bushy brows, Tully's eyes were stone. "My nephew is marked for death no matter what I do. So hang him and be done with it. I expect that Edmure is as weary of standing on those gallows as I am of seeing him there."_

_Ryman Frey is a bloody fool. His mummer's show with Edmure and the gallows had only made the Blackfish more obdurate, that was plain. "You hold Lady Sybelle Westerling and three of her children. I'll return your nephew in exchange for them."_

_"As you returned Lady Catelyn's daughters?"_

_Jaime did not allow himself to be provoked. "An old woman and three children for your liege lord. That's a better bargain than you could have hoped for."_

_Ser Brynden smiled a hard smile. "You do not lack for gall, Kingslayer. Bargaining with oathbreakers is like building on quicksand, though. Cat should have known better than to trust the likes of you."_

_It was Tyrion she trusted in, Jaime almost said. The Imp deceived her too. "The promises I made to Lady Catelyn were wrung from me at swordpoint."_

_"And the oath you swore to Aerys?"_

_He felt his phantom fingers twitching. "Aerys is no part of this. Will you exchange the Westerlings for Edmure?"_

_"No. My king entrusted his queen to my keeping, and I swore to keep her safe. I will not hand her over to a Frey noose."_

_"The girl has been pardoned. No harm will come to her. You have my word on that."_

_"Your word of honour?" Ser Brynden raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know what honour is?"_

_A horse. "I will swear any oath that you require."_

_"Spare me, Kingslayer."_

_"I want to. Strike your banners and open your gates and I'll grant your men their lives. Those who wish to remain at Riverrun in service to Lord Emmon may do so. The rest shall be free to go where they will, though I will require them to surrender their arms and armour."_

_"I wonder, how far will they get, unarmed, before 'outlaws' set upon them? You dare not allow them to join Lord Beric, we both know that. And what of me? Will I be paraded through King's Landing to die like Eddard Stark?"_

_"I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark's brother is the Lord Commander on the Wall."_

_The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Thank you but no. I would rather die with lion blood on my sword than take the black."_

_"Tully blood runs just as red," Jaime reminded him. "If you will not yield the castle, I must storm it. Hundreds will die."_

_"Hundreds of mine. Thousands of yours."_

_"Your garrison will perish to a man."_

_"I know that song. Do you sing it to the tune of 'The Rains of Castamere'? My men would sooner die upon their feet fighting than on their knees beneath a headsman's axe."_

_This is not going well. "This defiance serves no purpose, ser. The war is done, and your Young Wolf is dead."_

_"Murdered in breach of all the sacred laws of hospitality."_

_"Frey's work, not mine."_

_"Call it what you will. It stinks of Tywin Lannister."_

_Jaime could not deny that. "My father is dead as well."_

_"May the Father judge him justly."_

_Now, there's an awful prospect. "I would have slain Robb Stark in the Whispering Wood, if I could have reached him. Some fools got in my way. Does it matter how the boy perished? He's no less dead, and his kingdom died when he did."_

_"You must be blind as well as maimed, ser. Lift your eyes, and you will see that the direwolf still flies above our walls."_

_"I've seen him. He looks lonely. Harrenhal has fallen. Seagard and Maidenpool. The Brackens have bent the knee, and they've got Tytos Blackwood penned up in Raventree. Piper, Vance, Mooton, all your bannermen have yielded. Only Riverrun remains. We have twenty times your numbers."_

_"Twenty times the men require twenty times the food. How well are you provisioned, my lord?"_

_"Well enough to sit here till the end of days if need be, whilst you starve inside your walls." He told the lie as boldly as he could and hoped his face did not betray him._

_The Blackfish was not deceived. "The end of your days, perhaps. Our own supplies are ample, though I fear we did not leave much in the fields for visitors."_

_"We can bring food down from the Twins," said Jaime, "or over the hills from the west, if it comes to that."_

_"If you say so. Far be it from me to question the word of such an honorable knight."_

_The scorn in his voice made Jaime bristle. "There is a quicker way to decide the matter. A single combat. My champion against yours."_

_"I was wondering when you would get to that." Ser Brynden laughed. "Who will it be? Strongboar? Addam Marbrand? Black Walder Frey?" He leaned forward. "Why not you and me, ser?"_

_That would have been a sweet fight once, Jaime thought, fine fodder for the singers. "When Lady Catelyn freed me, she made me swear not to take arms again against the Starks or Tullys."_

_"A most convenient oath, ser."_

_His face darkened. "Are you calling me a coward?"_

_"No. I am calling you a cripple." The Blackfish nodded at Jaime's golden hand. "We both know you cannot fight with that."_

_"I had two hands." Would you throw your life away for pride? a voice inside him whispered. "Some might say a cripple and an old man are well matched. Free me from my vow to Lady Catelyn and I will meet you sword to sword. If I win, Riverrun is ours. If you slay me, we'll lift the siege."_

_Ser Brynden laughed again. "Much as I would welcome the chance to take that golden sword away from you and cut out your black heart, your promises are worthless. I would gain nothing from your death but the pleasure of killing you, and I will not risk my own life for that . . . as small a risk as that may be."_

_It was a good thing that Jaime wore no sword; elsewise he would have ripped his blade out, and if Ser Brynden did not slay him, the archers on the walls most surely would. "Are there any terms you will accept?" he demanded of the Blackfish._

_"From you?" Ser Brynden shrugged. "No."_

_"Why did you even come to treat with me?"_

_"A siege is deadly dull. I wanted to see this stump of yours and hear whatever excuses you cared to offer up for your latest enormities. They were feebler than I'd hoped. You always disappoint, Kingslayer." The Blackfish wheeled his mare and trotted back toward Riverrun. The portcullis descended with a rush, its iron spikes biting deep into the muddy ground._

_Jaime turned Honor's head about for the long ride back to the Lannister siege lines. He could feel the eyes on him; the Tully men upon their battlements, the Freys across the river. If they are not blind, they'll all know he threw my offer in my teeth. He would need to storm the castle. Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall._

_Back at camp, Little Lew held his bridle whilst Peck gave him a hand down from the saddle. Do they think I'm such a cripple that I cannot dismount by myself? "How did you fare, my lord?" asked his cousin Ser Daven._

_"No one put an arrow in my horse's rump. Elsewise, there was little to distinguish me from Ser Ryman." He grimaced. "So now he must needs turn the Red Fork redder." Blame yourself for that, Blackfish. You left me little choice. "Assemble a war council. Ser Addam, Strongboar, Forley Prester, those river lords of ours . . . and our friends of Frey. Ser Ryman, Lord Emmon, whoever else they care to bring."_

_They gathered quickly. Lord Piper and both Lords Vance came to speak for the repentant lords of the Trident, whose loyalties would shortly be put to the test. The west was represented by Ser Daven, Strongboar, Addam Marbrand, and Forley Prester. Lord Emmon Frey joined them, with his wife. Lady Genna claimed her stool with a look that dared any man there to question her presence. None did. The Freys sent Ser Walder Rivers, called "Bastard Walder," and Ser Ryman's firstborn Edwyn, a pallid, slender man with a pinched nose and lank dark hair. Under a blue lambswool cloak, Edwyn wore a jerkin of finely tooled grey calfskin with ornate scrollwork worked into the leather. "I speak for House Frey," he announced. "My father is indisposed this morning."_

_Ser Daven gave a snort. "Is he drunk, or just greensick from last night's wine?"_

_Edwyn had the hard mean mouth of a miser. "Lord Jaime," he said, "must I suffer such discourtesy?"_

_"Is it true?" Jaime asked him. "Is your father drunk?"_

_Frey pressed his lips together and eyed Ser Ilyn Payne, who was standing beside by the tent flap in his rusted mail, his sword poking up above one bony shoulder. "He . . . my father has a bad belly, my lord. Red wine helps with his digestion."_

_"He must be digesting a bloody mammoth," said Ser Daven. Strongboar laughed, and Lady Genna chuckled._

_"Enough," said Jaime. "We have a castle to win." When his father sat in council, he let his captains speak first. He was resolved to do the same. "How shall we proceed?"_

_"Hang Edmure Tully, for a start," urged Lord Emmon Frey. "That will teach Ser Brynden that we mean what we say. If we send Ser Edmure's head to his uncle, it may move him to yield."_

_"Brynden Blackfish is not moved so easily." Karyl Vance, the Lord of Wayfarer's Rest, had a melancholy look. A winestain birthmark covered half his neck and one side of his face. "His own brother could not move him to a marriage bed."_

_Ser Daven shook his shaggy head. "We have to storm the walls, as I've been saying all along. Siege towers, scaling ladders, a ram to break the gate, that's what's needed here."_

_"I will lead the assault," said Strongboar. "Give the fish a taste of steel and fire, that's what I say."_

_"They are my walls," protested Lord Emmon, "and that is my gate you would break." He drew his parchment out of his sleeve again. "King Tommen himself has granted me—"_

_"We've all seen your paper, nuncle," snapped Edwyn Frey. "Why don't you go wave it at the Blackfish for a change?"_

_"Storming the walls will be a bloody business," said Addam Marbrand. "I propose we wait for a moonless night and send a dozen picked men across the river in a boat with muffled oars. They can scale the walls with ropes and grapnels, and open the gates from the inside. I will lead them, if the council wishes."_

_"Folly," declared the bastard, Walder Rivers. "Ser Brynden is no man to be cozened by such tricks."_

_"The Blackfish is the obstacle," agreed Edwyn Frey. "His helm bears a black trout on its crest that makes him easy to pick out from afar. I propose that we move our siege towers close, fill them full of bowmen, and feign an attack upon the gates. That will bring Ser Brynden to the battlements, crest and all. Let every archer smear his shafts with night soil, and make that crest his mark. Once Ser Brynden dies, Riverrun is ours."_

_"Mine," piped Lord Emmon. "Riverrun is mine."_

_Lord Karyl's birthmark darkened. "Will the night soil be your own contribution, Edwyn? A mortal poison, I don't doubt."_

_"The Blackfish deserves a nobler death, and I'm the man to give it to him." Strongboar thumped his fist on the table. "I will challenge him to single combat. Mace or axe or longsword, makes no matter. The old man will be my meat."_

_"Why would he deign to accept your challenge, ser?" asked Ser Forley Prester. "What could he gain from such a duel? Will we lift the siege if he should win? I do not believe that. Nor will he. A single combat would accomplish nought."_

_"I have known Brynden Tully since we were squires together, in service to Lord Darry," said Norbert Vance, the blind Lord of Atranta. "If it please my lords, let me go and speak with him and try to make him understand the hopelessness of his position."_

_"He understands that well enough," said Lord Piper. He was a short, rotund, bowlegged man with a bush of wild red hair, the father of one of Jaime's squires; the resemblance to the boy was unmistakeable. "The man's not bloody stupid, Norbert. He has eyes . . . and too much sense to yield to such as these." He made a rude gesture in the direction of Edwyn Frey and Walder Rivers._

_Edwyn bristled. "If my lord of Piper means to imply—"_

_"I don't imply, Frey. I say what I mean straight out, like an honest man. But what would you know of the ways of honest men? You're a treacherous lying weasel, like all your kin. I'd sooner drink a pint of piss than take the word of any Frey." He leaned across the table. "Where is Marq, answer me that? What have you done with my son? He was a guest at your bloody wedding."_

_"And our honored guest he shall remain," said Edwyn, "until you prove your loyalty to His Grace, King Tommen."_

_"Five knights and twenty men-at-arms went with Marq to the Twins," said Piper. "Are they your guests as well, Frey?"_

_"Some of the knights, perhaps. The others were served no more than they deserved. You'd do well to guard your traitor's tongue, Piper, unless you want your heir returned in pieces."_

_My father's councils never went like this, Jaime thought, as Piper came lurching to his feet. "Say that with a sword in your hand, Frey," the small man snarled. "Or do you only fight with smears of shit?"_

_Frey's pinched face went pale. Beside him Walder Rivers rose. "Edwyn is no man of the sword . . . but I am, Piper. If you have more remarks to make, come outside and make them."_

_"This is a war council, not a war," Jaime reminded them. "Sit down, the both of you." Neither man moved. "Now!"_

_Walder Rivers seated himself. Lord Piper was not so easy to cow. He muttered a curse and strode from the tent. "Shall I send men after him to drag him back, my lord?" Ser Daven asked Jaime._

_"Send Ser Ilyn," urged Edywn Frey. "We only need his head."_

_Karyl Vance turned to Jaime. "Lord Piper spoke from grief. Marq is his firstborn son. Those knights who accompanied him to the Twins were nephews and cousins all."_

_"Traitors and rebels all, you mean," said Edwyn Frey._

_Jaime gave him a cold look. "The Twins took up the Young Wolf's cause as well," he reminded the Freys. "Then you betrayed him. That makes you twice as treacherous as Piper." He enjoyed seeing Edwyn's thin smile curdle up and die. I have endured sufficient counsel for one day, he decided. "We're done. See to your preparations, my lords. We attack at first light."_

_The wind was blowing from the north as the lords filed from the tent. Jaime could smell the stink of the Frey encampments beyond the Tumblestone. Across the water Edmure Tully stood forlorn atop the tall grey gallows, with a rope around his neck._

_His aunt departed last, her husband at her heels. "Lord nephew," Emmon protested, "this assault on my seat . . . you must not do this." When he swallowed, the apple in his throat moved up and down. "You must not. I . . . I forbid it." He had been chewing sourleaf again; pinkish froth glistened on his lips. "The castle is mine, I have the parchment. Signed by the king, by little Tommen. I am the lawful lord of Riverrun, and . . ."_

_"Not so long as Edmure Tully lives," said Lady Genna. "He is soft of heart and soft of head, I know, but alive, the man is still a danger. What do you mean to do about that, Jaime?"_

_It's the Blackfish who is the danger, not Edmure. "Leave Edmure to me. Ser Lyle, Ser Ilyn. Attend me, if you would. It's time I paid a visit to those gallows."_

_The Tumblestone was deeper and swifter than the Red Fork, and the nearest ford was leagues upstream. The ferry had just started across with Walder Rivers and Edwyn Frey when Jaime and his men arrived at the river. As they awaited its return, Jaime told them what he wanted. Ser Ilyn spat into the river._

_When the three of them stepped off the ferry on the north bank, a drunken camp follower offered to pleasure Strongboar with her mouth. "Here, pleasure my friend," Ser Lyle said, shoving her toward Ser Ilyn. Laughing, the woman moved to kiss Payne on the lips, then saw his eyes and shrank away._

_The paths between the cookfires were raw brown mud, mixed with horse dung and torn up by hooves and boots alike. Everywhere Jaime saw the twin towers of House Frey displayed on shield and banners, blue on grey, along with the arms of lesser Houses sworn to the Crossing: the heron of Erenford, the pitchfork of Haigh, Lord Charlton's three sprigs of mistletoe. The arrival of the Kingslayer did not go unnoticed. An old woman selling piglets from a basket stopped to stare at him, a knight with a half-familiar face went to one knee, and two men-at-arms pissing in a ditch turned and sprayed each other. "Ser Jaime," someone called after him, but he strode on without turning. Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side._

_Ryman Frey's great rectangular pavilion was the largest in the camp; its grey canvas walls were made of sewn squares to resemble stonework, and its two peaks evoked the Twins. Far from being indisposed, Ser Ryman was enjoying some entertainment. The sound of a woman's drunken laughter drifted from within the tent, mingled with the strains of a woodharp and a singer's voice. I will deal with you later, ser, Jaime thought. Walder Rivers stood before his own modest tent, talking with two men-at-arms. His shield bore the arms of House Frey with the colors reversed, and a red bend sinister across the towers. When the bastard saw Jaime, he frowned. There's a cold suspicious look if ever I saw one. That one is more dangerous than any of his trueborn brothers._

_The gallows had been raised ten feet off the ground. Two spearmen were posted at the foot of the steps. "You can't go up without Ser Ryman's leave," one told Jaime._

_"This says I can." Jaime tapped his sword hilt with a finger. "The question is, will I need to step over your corpse?"_

_The spearmen moved aside._

_Atop the gallows, the Lord of Riverrun stood staring at the trap beneath him. His feet were black and caked with mud, his legs bare. Edmure wore a soiled silken tunic striped in Tully red and blue, and a noose of hempen rope. At the sound of Jaime's footsteps, he raised his head and licked his dry, cracked lips. "Kingslayer?" The sight of Ser Ilyn widened his eyes. "Better a sword than a rope. Do it, Payne."_

_"Ser Ilyn," said Jaime. "You heard Lord Tully. Do it."_

_The silent knight gripped his greatsword with both hands. Long and heavy it was, sharp as common steel could be. Edmure's cracked lips moved soundlessly. As Ser Ilyn drew the blade back, he closed his eyes. The stroke had all Payne's weight behind it._

_"No! Stop. NO!" Edwyn Frey came panting into view. "My father comes. Fast as he can. Jaime, you must . . ."_

_"My lord would suit me better, Frey," said Jaime. "And you would do well to omit must from any speech directed at me."_

_Ser Ryman came stomping up the gallows steps in company with a straw-haired slattern as drunk as he was. Her gown laced up the front, but someone had undone the laces to the navel, so her breasts were spilling out. They were large and heavy, with big brown nipples. On her head a circlet of hammered bronze sat askew, graven with runes and ringed with small black swords. When she saw Jaime, she laughed. "Who in seven hells is this one?"_

_"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime returned with cold courtesy. "I might ask the same of you, my lady."_

_"Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen."_

_"My sister will be surprised to hear that."_

_"Lord Ryman crowned me his very self." She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores."_

_No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too._

_Ser Ryman found his tongue. "Shut your mouth, slut, Lord Jaime doesn't want to hear some harlot's nonsense." This Frey was a thickset man with a broad face, small eyes, and a soft fleshy set of chins. His breath stank of wine and onions._

_"Making queens, Ser Ryman?" Jaime asked softly. "Stupid. As stupid as this business with Lord Edmure."_

_"I gave the Blackfish warning. I told him Edmure would die unless the castle yielded. I had this gallows built, to show them that Ser Ryman Frey does not make idle threats. At Seagard my son Walder did the same with Patrek Mallister and Lord Jason bent the knee, but . . . the Blackfish is a cold man. He refused us, so . . ."_

_". . . you hanged Lord Edmure?"_

_The man reddened. "My lord grandfather . . . if we hang the man we have no hostage, ser. Have you considered that?"_

_"Only a fool makes threats he's not prepared to carry out. If I were to threaten to hit you unless you shut your mouth, and you presumed to speak, what do you think I'd do?"_

_"Ser, you do not unders—"_

_Jaime hit him. It was a backhand blow delivered with his golden hand, but the force of it sent Ser Ryman stumbling backward into the arms of his whore. "You have a fat head, Ser Ryman, and a thick neck as well. Ser Ilyn, how many strokes would it take you to cut through that neck?"_

_Ser Ilyn laid a single finger against his nose._

_Jaime laughed. "An empty boast. I say three."_

_Ryman Frey went to his knees. "I have done nothing . . ."_

_". . . but drink and whore. I know."_

_"I am heir to the Crossing. You can't . . ."_

_"I warned you about talking." Jaime watched the man turn white. A sot, a fool, and a craven. Lord Walder had best outlive this one, or the Freys are done. "You are dismissed, ser."_

_"Dismissed?"_

_"You heard me. Go away."_

_"But . . . where should I go?"_

_"To hell or home, as you prefer. See that you are not in camp when the sun comes up. You may take your queen of whores, but not that crown of hers." Jaime turned from Ser Ryman to his son. "Edwyn, I am giving you your father's command. Try not to be so stupid as your sire."_

_"That ought not pose much difficulty, my lord."_

_"Send word to Lord Walder. The crown requires all his prisoners." Jaime waved his golden hand. "Ser Lyle, bring him."_

_Edmure Tully had collapsed facedown on the scaffold when Ser Ilyn's blade sheared the rope in two. A foot of hemp still dangled from the noose about his neck. Strongboar grabbed the end of it and pulled him to his feet. "A fish on a leash," he said, chortling. "There's a sight I never saw before."_

_The Freys stepped aside to let them pass. A crowd had gathered below the scaffold, including a dozen camp followers in various states of disarray. Jaime noticed one man holding a woodharp. "You. Singer. Come with me."_

_The man doffed his hat. "As my lord commands."_

_No one said a word as they walked back to the ferry, with Ser Ryman's singer trailing after them. But as they shoved off from the riverbank and made for the south side of the Tumblestone, Edmure Tully grabbed Jaime by the arm. "Why?"_

_A Lannister pays his debts, he thought, and you're the only coin that's left to me. "Consider it a wedding gift."_

_Edmure stared at him with wary eyes. "A . . . wedding gift?"_

_"I am told your wife is pretty. She'd have to be, for you to bed her while your sister and your king were being murdered."_

_"I never knew." Edmure licked his cracked lips. "There were fiddlers outside the bedchamber . . ."_

_"And Lady Roslin was distracting you."_

_"She . . . they made her do it, Lord Walder and the rest. Roslin never wanted . . . she wept, but I thought it was . . ."_

_"The sight of your rampant manhood? Aye, that would make any woman weep, I'm sure."_

_"She is carrying my child."_

_No, Jaime thought, that's your death she has growing in her belly. Back at his pavilion, he dismissed Strongboar and Ser Ilyn, but not the singer. "I may have need of a song shortly," he told the man. "Lew, heat some bathwater for my guest. Pia, find him some clean clothing. Nothing with lions on it, if you please. Peck, wine for Lord Tully. Are you hungry, my lord?"_

_Edmure nodded, but his eyes were still suspicious._

_Jaime settled on a stool while Tully had his bath. The filth came off in grey clouds. "Once you've eaten, my men will escort you to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Your uncle is an old man. Valiant, yes, but the best part of his life is done. He has no bride to grieve for him, no children to defend. A good death is all the Blackfish can hope for . . . but you have years remaining, Edmure. And you are the rightful lord of House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves at your pleasure. The fate of Riverrun is in your hands."_

_Edmure stared. "The fate of Riverrun . . ."_

_"Yield the castle and no one dies. Your smallfolk may go in peace or stay to serve Lord Emmon. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black, along with as many of the garrison as choose to join him. You as well, if the Wall appeals to you. Or you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. I'll send your wife to join you, if you like. If her child is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a page and a squire, and when he earns his knighthood we'll bestow some lands upon him. Should Roslin give you a daughter, I'll see her well dowered when she's old enough to wed. You yourself may even be granted parole, once the war is done. All you need do is yield the castle."_

_Edmure raised his hands from the tub and watched the water run between his fingers. "And if I will not yield?"_

_Must you make me say the words? Pia was standing by the flap of the tent with her arms full of clothes. His squires were listening as well, and the singer. Let them hear, Jaime thought. Let the world hear. It makes no matter. He forced himself to smile, "You've seen our numbers, Edmure. You've seen the ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Hundreds will die, most of them your own. Your former bannermen will make up the first wave of attackers, so you'll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights so weary they can hardly lift their blades. When the castle falls, all those inside will be put to the sword. Your herds will be butchered, your godswood will be felled, your keeps and towers will burn. I'll pull your walls down, and pert the Tumblestone over the ruins. By the time I'm done no man will ever know that a castle once stood here." Jaime got to his feet. "Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet."_

_Silence followed his speech. Edmure sat in his bath. Pia clutched the clothing to her breasts. The singer tightened a string on his harp. Little Lew hollowed out a loaf of stale bread to make a trencher, pretending that he had not heard. With a trebuchet, Jaime thought. If his aunt had been there, would she still say Tyrion was Tywin's son?_

_Edmure Tully finally found his voice. "I could climb out of this tub and kill you where you stand, Kingslayer."_

_"You could try." Jaime waited. When Edmure made no move to rise, he said, "I'll leave you to enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest whilst he eats. You know the song, I trust."_

_"The one about the rain? Aye, my lord. I know it."_

_Edmure seemed to see the man for the first time. "No. Not him. Get him away from me."_

_"Why, it's just a song," said Jaime. "He cannot have that bad a voice."_

_That was when the raven came, bearing the wolf of Winterfell and the Stag of House Baratheon._


	11. Time Stands Still On The Iron Hill

**Sansa**

Her time in King's Landing had come to an end. That was something she still had some difficulty truly believing. She had been a prisoner in the capital for two years, though at first she had gone with her father and sister as a willing lady, besotted with Prince Joffrey and the wonders of the south. That had changed once Joffrey had her father's head taken off and mounted on a spike in the Red Keep. That was when she noticed the things that had made Robb and Arya and Jon and Jeyne hate him, things she had been too blind before to see. The cruelty and the sheer hatred that he had for anyone or anything, it was amazing how once the smoke had been lifted from her eyes she saw Joffrey for what he truly was, not the gallant prince of song, but a vile beast from one of the Seven Hells.

Her time in King's Landing had felt like a time in a cage, she was the little bird that the Hound had called her in those early days. She repeated back the courtesies she had been taught as a little girl in Winterfell by Septa Mordane, but that had earnt her nothing more than the Queen's scorn and beatings from the knights of the Kingsguard, men who were supposed to be the noblest knights in the whole realm. Then the Tyrells had come to court, and things had improved slightly. Margaery treated her like a sister, the sister she had always dreamed of having when she had been younger, but such thoughts had only made her feel so guilty and lonely- for there was still no word of Arya- and when Margaery had told her that perhaps she could come to Highgarden with her to meet Margaery's oldest brother Lord Willas, Sansa had been so happy, so relieved that she might finally get the chance to leave King's Landing and the horrors it still held for her, that she had agreed. And yet the Lannisters had foiled that little slither of hope, and had married her off to Lord Tyrion the day before she was meant to go off for Highgarden.

The Tyrells stopped being her friend from that day on. Oh Margaery still spoke with her, but her cousins did not, they looked at Sansa with something akin to scorn, as if Sansa had done something wrong, when in truth she had done nothing more than hope and pray for a way out of King's Landing. Tyrion was not a bad husband, he was kind and gentle and he did not ever try to claim his rights from her, but he was still a Lannister, he was still one of them. Joffrey was still his nephew, and so she could not be free with him, her mask, the mask she had worn for so long by then was kept in place night and day, no release for her, nothing. Then the news had come on raven's wings that her brother and mother had died, had been murdered at her uncle Edmure's wedding by the Freys and the Boltons. She had cried then, truly she had, she had cried until she thought that she might never cry again.

She had been about to give up hope that she would ever see Winterfell again, would ever get to go home ever again, when her cousin Jeyne and her aunt Ashara had come as part of the Dornish retinue to King's Landing. She and Jeyne had been close as children when Jeyne had been in Winterfell, Jeyne liked sewing and needlework and womanly pursuits, but she also had a great adventurous side to her which was at complete odds with her health, and that had endeared her to Robb, and Arya, something that had made Sansa quite jealous toward the end of her cousin's stay in Winterfell, and had made her side with Joffrey when Jon had attacked him. She felt guilty about that now though, especially when she saw how frail of health Jeyne truly was, how she often took ill. Joffrey did not help matters, with his derogatory comments and his advances, all done when not in the company of Margaery, and then there was the time Sansa walked into her room to find Jeyne curled up in a ball crying her eyes out, because Joffrey had done something so entirely inappropriate to her.

Jeyne never spoke of that though, and instead spent her time with Sansa helping her through the daily grind of court and life, and then at night they would sleep together and plan how they would flee from King's Landing. The day of Joffrey's wedding the plans were finalised. Jeyne told her to stay very close to her and aunt Ashara during the wedding feast, and so Sansa did, and just before the pie was served Jeyne began coughing, and of course the Queen had to allow her to go, Sansa following her cousin's leave begged Tyrion to allow her to go and help Jeyne, distracted as he was Tyrion granted her request, and so a few moments later Sansa found herself running through the halls of the Red Keep to the Godswood Jeyne holding her hand and running with her, where they found Ser Arthur- Jeyne's sworn sword- and Ser Mors Gargalen and Aunt Ashara waiting for them. They ran to the docks where a ship bearing the star of House Dayne and the Sun and Spear of House Martell was waiting for them, but before they could get onto the ship Ser Dontos and two other men whom Sansa did not know came barrelling out of the darkness and tried to take her away from Jeyne, but they were allowed no further as Ser Arthur and Ser Mors cut all three men down to ribbons and then helped Sansa and her cousin and her aunt onto the ship and away from King's Landing.

It was later, after they had spent many days on the ship travelling toward Sunspear, that Sansa learnt from a conversation that she and Jeyne overheard that Ser Dontos had been working for Lord Baelish and that those two other men with him had been working for Baelish as well, and that one of the men had before he had been slain confessed that Baelish meant to take Sansa to the Vale with him. Meant to use her as a way to earn the north's allegiance, against the Boltons and Freys for some game that he was playing. She remembered Lord Baelish from some of the occasions she had seen him in court. The man had an unnatural look to him, and his eyes always seemed to be looking for something or the other when he spoke to you, and when he spoke to Sansa, he always remarked on how much like her mother she looked, and that always unnerved her because he would always linger too long on her cheek and hair when he touched her.

Their ship made one stop at Parchments before moving onto Sunspear. And it was there that she and Jeyne were beneath the deck in their rooms exchanging stories and keeping each other company when Ser Arthur and Lady Ashara entered having gone to the mainland to pick up supplies. And it was then that Sansa learnt of Lord Tywin Lannister's death, how he had been killed by Lord Tyrion- his own son- and how there had been fighting up at the Wall between the Night's Watch and the Wildlings and how Stannis Baratheon had come to the Night's Watch aid and then after the battle had legitimised Sansa's cousin Jon and named him Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North and how Jon had married Alys- Robb's widow- Ashara spoke with some pride of how Jon was re taking the north from the Ironborn and the Boltons, how he had led the charge that vanquished the Ironborn from Deepwood Motte. Ser Arthur then spoke of how news from King's Landing was of growing disunity between the Queen Regent and the Tyrells, how the Queen Regent was rumoured to becoming more and more paranoid. How Lannister rule on the Iron Throne was slipping.

Later that day as Sansa and Jeyne were walking back to their rooms from dinner they overheard Lady Ashara arguing with someone, a man it appeared for the person she was arguing with had a much deeper voice. Sansa and Jeyne both remained deeply silent and tiptoed closer to the door which was slightly ajar, Sansa all the while feeling guilty for what she was doing, but what she heard shocked her. _"You can't be serious Ashara; it's too dangerous for you to go north now. Not with Bolton and Freys still holding Winterfell." That was Ser Arthur's voice._

_"Why not Arthur? My son is winning back the north, and avenging his family." Her aunt Ashara replied._

_"What of those rumours we heard in Parchments of dragons and the fall of the Slaver cities in the east then? You know there is only one family synonymous with Dragons Ashara."_

_Ashara snorted. "You can not mean to go chasing a rumour Arthur. Whomever it is freeing the slaves in the east, it is not our concern now. We have more pressing matters to worry about. Jeyne's health is not what it should be and we must keep Sansa safe, we must do." _

_"You don't understand Ashara, I swore a vow." Ser Arthur replied._

_"I know what you swore Arthur. You swore vows to me and Elia too, or have you forgotten?"_

_"I have not."_

_"Good. The dragons brought nothing more than trouble for our family. I cannot lose you again Arthur. You couldn't save Elia, but you can still protect our family from the Lannisters, you can help my son and my daughter."_

_Sansa heard Ser Arthur sigh. "Very well Ashara. I will promise not to lose my head, should the dragons come calling. On my honour as a knight, on my honour as a Dayne, I shall not leave you or our family again."_

Sansa had pulled back then and looked at Jeyne with wide eyes, her cousin looked equally shocked. Ser Arthur-whose last name she had never known- was in fact a Dayne, not only that he was Ser Arthur Dayne the legendary Sword of the Morning and Jeyne's uncle! The shock had left them both reeling, and for days afterwards that was all they talked of. Reasons for why Jeyne's uncle could have had for hiding his identity for all these years, and why Sansa's own lord father had always maintained that only he and his friend Lord Howland had come back alive from the Tower of Joy, though the more she thought of it, she realised that her father had never explicitly mentioned what had happened to Ser Arthur Dayne, she had just assumed like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms that the Sword of the Morning had died.

When they arrived in Sunspear, they had been away from King's Landing for near on a month now, and so they were greeted with even more news. According to Princess Arianne who rode to the docks to attend to them, her uncle Prince Oberyn had taken it upon himself to fight for Sansa's husband in a trial by combat against Ser Gregor Clegane, and had come out victorious he had killed Ser Gregor with a deadly poison, but had suffered for his victory, his left eye had been crushed in and he was now blind in that eye. But Princess Arianne said that Dorne and her uncle did not mind much about his broken eye, all they cared for now was that the long awaited justice that they had craved for her aunt and cousins the Princess Elia, and Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon had finally been gotten.

Sansa remembered reading and hearing about Dorne during her lessons in Winterfell, and Sunspear at least seemed to be exactly what she had imagined and more. It seemed like some sort of desert paradise, with sands and a great big castle that was the seat of House Martell, with lots of huts and buildings that made up the summer town. The Dornish people she saw in Sunspear were all tanned and brown of skin and hair, and free with their speech and attitude, though Jeyne told her that there was still a certain level of intrigue that went on in Dorne, it was just harder to see it.

Three days after her arrival in Sunspear, she met Prince Doran for the first time. Jeyne had told her all about Prince Doran, the Prince of Dorne was an old man who suffered from gout, and yet he seemed like a kindly man and there was a certain aura that radiated off him, a certain amount of respect that one just had to pay him. When she met him, he greeted her kindly and offered his sympathies for her losses, and then introduced her to his nieces and youngest son, the Sand Snakes particularly the oldest one Obara reminded Sansa of Arya so much so that she felt something in her chest stir painfully at the thought. Prince Trystane who was betrothed to Princess Myrcella, was a sweet boy although quite shy, he reminded her a little of Bran, and Sansa felt another pang in her chest as she thought of her little brother, dead now, killed by Theon Greyjoy.

Two weeks after her arrival in Sunspear, Prince Oberyn arrived back in Sunspear with his Dornish party and with him he brought, the skull of Gregor Clegane and Lord Willas Tyrell.

* * *

**Cersei**

Seventeen years she had waited, seventeen years of biding her time, and finally she had all the power of the realm in her fingertips. Joffrey, her firstborn and her true lion of a son was dead, murdered by her own imp of a brother, Cersei mourned for Joff, but she could not mourn for long, Tyrion had killed their father as well and Cersei meant to see her imp of a brother's head on a spike before she could rest easy. Of course her father's death had left many holes in the running of the kingdoms. Her father had kept a tight rein on the Kingdoms, ensuring that peace could finally come to Westeros after two years of out and out war, and Cersei meant to ensure that all his hard work did not end up for nought.

Of course she did not meant to delegate the work to anyone, she meant to do it all herself. She had offered the Handship to Jaime- her twin, her other half- but the fool had refused, had spurned her for some foolish honourable cause, and so Cersei had decided to appoint Ser Harys Swyft her uncle Kevan's good father as hand. Ser Harys was a tractable man and one who would do as he was bid without questioning his instructions too much and that was something that Cersei had begun to appreciate greatly as time went on. Her orders to rearm the faith had gone unquestioned, her orders that the Tower of the Hand be burnt down had gone unquestioned. Everything had been running smoothly and then her uncle Kevan had spoken to her as he had been about to leave the city for Darry, and he had told her that he knew the truth of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommem's parentage, and there had been a look of such disgust in his eyes, that she had been momentarily struck dumb, and had even contemplated having Qyburn send a man to kill her uncle before he could do anything with the news.

She had told Jaime this, and her fool of a brother had simply laughed and laughed at her, and told her that their uncle would not act on the news. She supposed looking back on it now, Jaime had been right. Something about their father's death had unmanned Uncle Kevan, he who had been their father's right hand for as long as Cersei could remember, he who had never once flinched from his duty to his brother or to House Lannister, had refused her offer for the Handship and had decided to retreat back to the Rock like a whipped Lion. Her brother Jaime too seemed changed, something must have happened to him during his captivity, for he had lost his fight, his anger all those qualities that had made her love and lust for him during their lives, seemed to have disappeared from him, and now he seemed to be a figment of the man he had been before the war had started. She had sent him off to lift the siege of Riverrun, and Raventree Hall, and so far she knew that Riverrun had now changed hands and was now in the hands of her uncle Emmon and his wife Genna, but there had been no word of Jaime since then.

There had been other goings on in court though which had kept her busy and prevented her from fretting too much about her brother's whereabouts. She had suspected ever since Joffrey had been betrothed to Margaery Tyrell that the girl meant to turn her own sons against her. And so she had employed the use of Qyburn and his whispers and Lady Merryweather to feed her information about Margaery Tyrell and the company she kept, and that had allowed her to plant several rumours into the High Septon- or High Sparrow-'s ear, which had subsequently resulted in Margaery's arrest for adultery and treason. Before that had happened, Cersei had sent Ser Loras and some Tyrell men to Dragonstone to take one of the last strongholds that Stannis Baratheon still had in the south, Mace Tyrell she sent to Storm's End, and the fat fool had been laying siege to it, and having just about as much success as he had had during Robert's Rebellion seventeen years ago. With the Ironborn invading the Reach though, there were some causes for concern but she remembered what her late husband and her late father had both said to her once of the Ironborn. They may raid and plunder to their heart's content but when it came to actual physical battle, they were weak and disorganized and would more than likely spend themselves out before any real threat could be mounted, and besides with Ser Garlan Tyrell leading a force of men to deal with them, they were not like to be causing anymore trouble anytime soon. This also meant that there were fewer roses to infect the court, or at least there had been.

Cersei's plotting and scheming had come back to bite her in the back. The faith had had her arrested for crimes of adultery, treason and other such nonsense. The first two crimes were true, she knew that, she had not spent a night in Robert's bed since their wedding night, all the pleasure she could ever have wanted she had gotten from Jaime, and then when Jaime was away she took advantage of those she knew she could use for political purposes. Robert's death she had also planned with a little help from a boar. But of course no one knew that, no one but wispy little Lancel who had packed himself off to Darry and had become a pious simpering idiot the last she had heard, though it was entirely possible that he had told the new High Septon before he had left about what he had done for Cersei. And of course the High Septon wished for her to confess to all of her crimes, something to which she knew she could not do, for it would mean death and then Tommem would be lost without her, she could not do that not to her sweet little Tommem, so she confessed to some of her crimes, but not all of them, and then to further satisfy the High Septon she went on a penance walk along the streets of King's Landing whilst the smallfolk of the city taunted her and laughed at her. All the while she kept thinking of Tommem and how her son needed her, and how once her innocence was proven she would make all those who had betrayed her pay, she would make the High Septon pay.

Once her walk was done she was kept in custody in the Great Sept of Baelor for some more time, and then her Uncle Kevan eventually came to free her, he had been named Hand during her imprisonment and had been trying to restore any of the damage she had done to their alliance with the Tyrells. He had given the Handship to Lord Mace, who had come blustering and bumbling back from Storm's End leaving a small force still laying siege to it, so that he could have his daughter freed, Lord Tarly had come down from Maidenpool as well and held Margaery in his custody until her trial was done. Dragonstone had fallen to Ser Loras, though the little white knight had taken a severe injury and burning in the taking of the castle, Mace Tyrell had apparently assured her uncle that Storm's End would break and fall soon enough. Her uncle had only told her that much when he had come to see her for dinner the night he had been killed. There was more she was sure of it, more news that he had yet to share with her, news about Stannis and about Jaime, important news, but news which she was certain the Tyrells did not want him telling her about. Her uncle had been found in Grand Maester Pycelle's room with an arrow through his stomach and knife wounds through his chest and arms, he had bled to death, the Grand Maester had met a similar fate, she had heard the septas who attended her whispering the next day, and when Qyburn had come to speak to her of golden rose coins that had been found beside the bodies of the dead.

He had also presented her with her new champion in the trial by combat that she would be going through to prove her innocence, Ser Robert Strong a giant of a man standing close to eight feet tall, in full Kingsguard Armour day in and day out. Qyburn had told her that he would speak a word until her innocence had been proven and as such today was the day of her trial, held before the Tyrell girl's trial, here was where she would be proven innocent.

As such she was led by the septas to the ground where the trial would take place, not anywhere near the Sept of Baelor, no these grounds were where the Tourney of the Hand had taken place when Robert had been king. There was no crowd to witness her innocence be proven, only a few grisly old Septas and Septons and then the High Septon himself, stood in a plain white robe with a simple crown atop his head. He stood forward and spoke. "We are here today in sight of the seven, to witness the trial by battle to prove the innocence of her grace Queen Cersei Baratheon. Should her champion prove victorious all charges against her will be dropped and she will be free to resume her duties. However, should her champion fail and die during the battle, she will face death by the hangman's noose."

Her champion Ser Robert Strong stepped forward then dressed in Kingsguard white his helm atop his head, he bowed low before her before sauntering off to stand ready and waiting for the Faith's champion to approach. The faith's champion soon emerged, wearing nothing more than a simple grey boiled armour and a grey cloak and a helm shaped like the seven pointed star, the Faith's champion did not look anything special. He bowed low before the High Septon and then advanced toward Ser Robert. Cersei's heart started hammering in her chest as she waited for the High Septon to declare the fight started. "Begin." The man said in a clear voice, and so it did.

Ser Robert advanced forward lumbering as he did so, the faith's champion moved backwards and Ser Robert followed. The faith's champion continued moving round and round Ser Robert drawing her champion closer and closer to him, and yet the man made no move to strike, nor did Ser Robert attempt to strike. Just as Cersei was beginning to lose her patience, Ser Robert swung, and he swung true, his sword broke through the man's shield and struck his armour denting it. The faith's champion staggered back from the force of the blow, and Ser Robert followed him. Ser Robert swung once more and struck once again, this time denting the man's shoulder plate. The man staggered back once again. Ser Robert swung and struck true once more, this time he drew blood.

Cersei saw the Faith's champion's blood falling down onto the muddy ground, and waited with baited breath. Ser Robert swung once more, and struck true once again, this time drawing blood from the man's chest and further denting the man's main body of armour. Ser Robert swung once more, and struck true again and again and again, until the faiths champion was on his knees his armour dented and broken in several places, blood pouring out from several wounds and adding to the muddy ground. She could hear the man's heavy breathing from where she was sat; gripping onto the edge of her seat so tightly her knuckles had gone white from the strain.

Ser Robert raised his sword up once more and brought it crashing down, but at the last minute the faith's champion brought his sword up just in time and the sound of steel on steel screeched around the ground. Cersei saw Ser Robert push down harder on his sword, putting his weight behind the weapon, causing the two swords to screech from the contact, the other fighter was straining from the effort Cersei could see, about to break. Then from somewhere the other fighter found the strength to push Ser Robert's sword away from his own, causing Ser Robert to stagger back. The other fighter staggered to his feet, and then began counted attacking Ser Robert, though his swings rarely connected anything other than Ser Robert's sword, the sound of steel on steel sung throughout the yard. Otherwise there was complete silence.

Ser Robert blocked yet another blow from the faith's fighter and then Cersei sat amazed as her champion took one hand off the sword and brought it round to punch the faith's champion in the face, and then in another swift movement brought the same hand back onto his sword hilt and plunged it into the man's armour and then pulled out again, a splatter of blood following his sword as it came out of the man's chest. The man fell to his knees, Cersei's breathing became quicker as she waited in anticipation for the killing blow, the blow that would free her from her captivity.

She saw Ser Robert raise his sword up high into the air ready to bring it crashing down onto the man and end the fight, but just as his sword was coming down, somewhere the man found the reserve to lift his sword up and thrust it quickly into Ser Robert's chest, causing a blueish type substance to pour out from the fresh wound that the strike had opened. Cersei felt her heart enter her throat then as she saw the blueish substance leak out, the faith would not stand for that, whatever that was, but it made no matter for Ser Robert's sword came hurtling down and cut the faith's champion down into two.

There was a moment of silence, and then a great clattering of steel as Ser Robert fell to his knees. Another moment of silence and then the groaning of steel as Ser Robert dropped his sword. Cersei turned to look at Qyburn, only to find that the man was looking at the High Septon intently, Cersei turned and looked at the man as well and saw the flush and the nervousness written plain on his face. She heard him as well as saw him swallow nervously, before he finally spoke. "Queen Cersei's innocence is proven. Her champion has won her fight. She is free to go." Cersei felt relief coil in her stomach then, so much so she almost didn't hear the sound of Ser Robert strong hitting the ground, but when she did she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart hammering something fierce.

* * *

**Jon Connington**

_After the Battle of the Bells when Aerys Targaryen had stripped him of his titles and sent him into exile in a mad fit of ingratitude and suspicion, the lands and lordship of Griffin's Roost had remained within House Connington, passing to his cousin Ser Ronald, the man whom Jon had made his castellan when he went to King's Landing to attend Prince Rhaegar. Robert Baratheon had completed the destruction of the griffins after the war. Cousin Ronald was permitted to retain his castle and his head, but he lost his lordship, thereafter being merely the Knight of Griffin's Roost, and nine tenths of his lands were taken from him and parcelled out to neighbour lords who had supported Robert's Claim. It was not Ronald's fault, it was his own. He had lost it all at the Stoney Sept. _

_Robert Baratheon had been hiding somewhere in the town, wounded and alone. Jon had known that, and he had also known that Robert's head upon a spear would have put an end to the rebellion, then and there. He was young and full of pride. How not? King Aerys had named him Hand and given him an army, and he meant to prove himself worthy of that trust, of Rhaegar's love. He would slay the rebel lord himself and carve a place out for himself in all the histories of the Seven Kingdoms. And so he swept down on Stoney Sept, closed off the town and began a search. His knights went house to house, smashed in every door, peered into every cellar. He had even sent men crawling through the sewers, yet somehow Robert still eluded him. The townsfolk were hiding him. They moved him from one secret bolt hole to the next, always one step ahead of the king's men. The whole town was a nest of traitors. At the end they had the usurper hidden in a brothel. What sort of king was that, who hid behind the skirts of women, and that too when he supposedly fought for a lady love? Yet whilst the search dragged on Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully came down upon the town with a rebel army. Bells and battle followed, and Robert emerged from his brothel with a blade in hand, and almost slew Jon on the steps of the old sept that gave the town its name. Jon had fought back though; he always fought back, and had wounded Hoster Tully and killed Denys Arryn. But they would have lost the battle and the war there and then had he not beat back a retreat to King's Landing. When he arrived back in the capital, the city was in a state of panic. Aerys was angry, very angry, he ranted and raved at Jon and then dismissed him and exiled him._

_Before he left though Ser Gerold Hightower the White Bull gave him some coin and a letter bearing word of a spider. Jon looked not at the letter for years, but he drank all the coin away when he heard word of the Trident, he was in Bravos when news came of Rhaegar's death and he drank and whored himself into oblivion. He was in Pentos when news came of the sack of King's Landing, the deaths of Elia Martell and Rhaenys and Aegon. He drank and drank, and then joined the Golden Company, and for five years he had a purpose, he fought and fought his sorrows away. It had been five years into his exile that Ser Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company at the time had told him that there was a letter he needed to read. The letter bore the sigil of a spider, and its contents were writ in the flowery hand of the Spider himself. He wrote of how Jon's silver prince survived on in his true heir, neither Viserys nor Danaerys. And if Jon wished to see his silver prince's son again he must needs travel to Pentos. Of course he could just simply up and leave the Golden Company; no Blackheart first had to find him stealing from the coffers and send him out in disgrace, where as he wondered the lands he drank himself into oblivion. At least that was the tale the Spider would weave for the usurper, in reality Jon had made his way to Pentos where he had come to the manse of one Illyrio Mopatis to find a boy no older than five playing in the house and the boy had looked so much like Rhaegar had that Jon had found his breath momentarily leave his body. That had been the day that Jon Connington head learnt how the Spider had managed to sneak Prince Aegon- King Aegon- out of King's Landing in the dying hours of the rebellion and managed to sneak him to Pentos, to his old friend Illyrio Mopatis, one of the most prominent magisters in Pentos._

_They had spent a year in Illyrio's manse allowing Aegon to get accustomed to Jon and then they had ventured out, onto a boat where they had lived for the next twelve years. And then the dwarf had come. Tyrion Lannister with his japes and his gilded tongue, had come and had sussed out who Jon and Aegon truly were within a matter of days of being aboard the Shy Maid, the fool had even gotten himself greyscale, which Jon had just about narrowly avoided giving himself as well according to Lemore. It had been the Imp with his gilded tongue and barbed comments who had made Aegon become more cagey of those he trusted, it had been at the Imp's insistence that they had gone west toward Westeros after picking up the Golden Company in Volon Therys, instead of heading out east to aid Danaerys as had been the plan from the beginning. _

_Aegon had come to Jon Connington with a red egg with golden flecks and black whorls. The egg had been petrified through the years, had been given as a gift to the boy for his fifth nameday. The egg had remained petrified till one day just before Aegon's sixteenth nameday they had stopped in Volantis, on the cusps of the Red Priest's temples and Aegon had gotten lost within the great temple of Fire, Jon had panicked and panicked then, had feared for this boy who had become a son to him, his last chance of redemption. He need not have worried, Aegon had emerged from the Temple of Fire, scarred and with an eyebrow missing, but with a red dragon perched on his shoulder, a dragon he named Acteon. Acteon had grown and grown in the woods near their boat, Aegon spent a great amount of time, when he was not learning his words and numbers with Haldon and not sparring with Rolly in the woods with Acteon, learning how to train him and master the art of dragon riding. As word came from the east of Danaerys' dragons, Aegon's desire to meet his aunt only increased, but then reality set in. Danaerys was conquering the cities of Slaver's Bay, but it seemed she had no intention of heading west, at least not in the foreseeable future._

_And so Aegon had decreed that they set sail for Westeros and so they had. But they had not gone for King's Landing, no the Spider's last report had stated that with Stannis Baratheon stuck in the north, the Stormlands were in disarray. It seemed that the eunuch was right. They had landed on Cape Wrath with 6000 men some still stuck out to sea, that had split into three companies of two thousand men. One company bound for Greenstone that had fallen with ease. Then had come Rain House, that had surrendered without too much of a fight, the days of Ser Willam Wylde and ancient loyalties ran deep. Next had fallen Crow's Nest under the command of Ser Tristan Rivers. Jon had taken command of the company bound for Griffin's Roost, they had found the castle defended by a garrison of old men, needless to say they had taken it with little bloodshed._

_Then Aegon had come, and it was like déjà vu for Jon, Aegon held himself in the same way that Prince Rhaegar had. He had the same sort of authority about himself, and he made quite an impression riding on Acteon's back. It was then that Aegon had announced that he had decided that they would march on Storm's End; the Baratheon stronghold was under siege from a meagre Tyrell host under the command of Mathis Rowan. He would lead the attack he stated, riding not on Acteon's back but on a black stallion. Acteon would remain hidden in the woods for later use. As they planned how the attack would go, the last 4,000 members of the Golden Company came to shore and marched for Griffin's Roost. Jon had given instructions to the companies holding Greenstone, Crow's Nest and Rain House that they were to remain stationed there, until further notice. SO these extra 4,000 men were a bonus. _

A week after the taking of Griffin's Roost they marched for Storm's End. But they did not fly the Targaryen banner, no in a clever ploy designed by Aegon; the men flew the Baratheon banner to trick the garrison of Storm's End into thinking Stannis had sent aid to them. The plot seemed to work, as the Golden Company engaged with Mathis Rowan's host, the gates of Storm's End opened and out came the garrison of Storm's End swords in hand. Jon lost track of Aegon during the battle, so busy was he hacking and slashing, hacking and slashing, the bells were tolling loudly inside of his head, but still he kept hacking and slashing, staining his sword blood red.

Man after man fell, whether they had the Tyrell arms or the Rowan arms or any other arms belonging to houses from the Reach did not matter if they swung at Jon he cut them down. The ground was slippery with blood and muck and mud, when he came face to face with a big burly man with the golden tree of House Rowan on his armour. The man swung at Jon, he swerved to the side in time and the man's sword whipped past him. Jon dabbed at the man's chest but was blocked by his shield, which also had the golden tree of house Rowan.

Then they brought their swords up together and the clanging of the meeting in the air resounded in Jon's ears, bells began tolling loudly. They broke contact and then swung at each other once more, meeting once again in the air, and the screeching of steel on steel only increasing the tolling of bells in Jon's ears. They broke apart once more, and then Jon thrust his sword into the man's right rib and made contact, denting the armour there and opening a wound, judging by the sound of cracking he heard.

The man grunted, somewhere far away another screamed. Jon blanked the noise out and focussed on the opponent in front of him. He blocked the man's swing, and answered it with one of his own, and the sound of steel connecting with flesh was like music to his ears. He swung again and again until, his sword had dented the man's armour in many places, the man had swung too and had dented Jon's own armour multiple times. Blood was littering the ground and both their swords, and yet they kept fighting.

They ducked and dodged, danced and weaved in between each other, all the while their swords kept clanging together in sync. Steel hit steel and screeched. Steel hit armour and armour dented and blood fell to the ground. Steel hit shield, and shields broke. Around them were a sea of bodies, a mass of human faces and blood, men were grunting, shouting and screaming. Jon heard but did not register, he kept swinging.

And then with one stroke to his opponent's gullet the man was lying on the ground dead, blood pouring from his wounds. Jon Connington stared blankly at the man on the ground, before he realised that men were cheering, cheering and yelling and shouting. He looked around to see the bodies of Rowan and Tyrell soldiers littering the ground as well as a few men with the Baratheon Stag on their armour and a few from the Golden Company. He stopped one man who was near him and asked him what had happened.

The man stopped and looked at him as if he were mad. "We won milord. King Aegon has taken Storm's End." The man smiled, whooped and then moved on. It took Jon a moment to process what the man had said, they had won, and Storm's End was theirs.

Later that night Jon found himself in the Great Hall of Storm's End, still not quite believing where he was or what had happened. Next to him Aegon sat and laughed and drank and ate with his men and threw pieces of food out of the window to Acteon, much to his men's amusement. Jon looked up from his plate when the talking stopped and saw Aegon had gotten to his feet.

He saw his King smile a winning smile at the men, and then he spoke in a iron baritone that reminded Jon so much of Rhaegar he nearly shivered from it. "My friends, we have Storm's End. Let the boy king and the Lannisters know that we are here and we mean to take back King's Landing and the Iron Throne!" the answering cheer was deathly loud. Aegon continued. "We are not done yet, I will have my maester Haldon write to the Stormlords and have them come here to swear me fealty. And I would name my Lord Connington, the new Lord of Storm's End and Hand of the King." The cheer in response to that was three times as loud. The bells were quiet, but time was standing still for Jon Connington.


	12. Cry Of The Wolf

**Reek**

He'd forgotten his name many times since his captivity, making vain boasts in the beginning about what he would do to his captors once he got out and got away. Lord Ramsay had shown him the error of his ways then, flogging him and flaying him to an inch of his life. He no longer had three toes on his left foot, he no longer had most of his right hand, his teeth were all broken and his face bore numerous scars. He had tried to escape once, with a girl called Kyra, it had been a trap set up by Lord Ramsay, he knew now, to test him and his strength. He had failed miserably, he'd run with Kyra they had gotten as far as outside the Dreadfort when the dogs had come calling, Ramsay's girls, they'd torn Kyra to pieces, but not before the Lord Bolton had raped her numerous times. Reek he'd flayed, and Reek still bore the scars of that flaying both on his person and inside. No he would not forget his name again.

Lord Ramsay had made use of him though. When he had ridden south to deal with the Ironborn still in Moat Cailin he had taken his reek with him, and made Reek talk with the Ironborn, Reek had gotten them to surrender, and for the first time since Winterfell he had felt proud of what he had done, he no longer felt cowed. At least that was until the men Lord Ramsay brought killed the Ironborn who had surrendered and those that they did not kill were brought back to the Dreadfort and flayed numerous times, Reek from where he slept in the dungeons could hear their screams, and sometimes at night they still haunted him. Of course Lord Ramsay had punished as well though, for traitors were not tolerated by the Bastard of Bolton, and Ramsay had flayed Reek to an inch of his life in the Dreadfort, before they had ridden for Barrowtown.

It was in Barrowtown that Reek met Roose Bolton once more. A boy named Theon Greyjoy had once mocked Roose Bolton, had made fun of his seriousness and those cold dead eyes. Theon Greyjoy had been a fool, Roose Bolton was not someone to be mocked, and he was someone to be feared. Those cold dead eyes always looked around the hall in Barrowtown, watching and assessing as his men and those of his new bannermen eat and drank and talked. Roose Bolton was a cold and calculating man Reek knew, for he saw all the things that Theon Greyjoy had never deemed important enough. He saw how some of Lord Bolton's bannermen were scared of Ramsay but were terrified of Roose, and that was why they were all following him in his little charade.

For after spending a week in Barrowtown the northern party made its way to the ruins of Winterfell. It was said that Theon Greyjoy had burnt Winterfell to the ground and made it a ruin, Reek could not say, though he did remember smoke and ash and the crying of babes as they were taken from their parents. Ramsay Bolton had wed Arya Stark in the Godswood in Winterfell before the north, and so had legitimised his claim to the north. If only the girl was Arya Stark. Reek knew from some distant memory that Arya Stark would never have been so complacent and so meek as she was walked down to the aisle to face her husband, she would have kicked and screamed and bitten any who tried to make her go down. But of course this girl, this girl pretending to be Arya Stark had been friends with Sansa Stark, had watched and emulated as her friend became a true lady, and so she did not scream, not did she bite. No all she did was meekly walk down to the heart tree and say her vows before the north and her husband. It was later, when the bedding was about to occur that the facade the girl had put in place began to crack. She whimpered and gripped on to his arm so tightly, Reek had been afraid that it would snap off.

His lordship had made Reek taste the girl first, whilst he watched. The girl had whimpered underneath his tongue, but soon she began to moan and Reek had begun to worry that perhaps that would make his lordship angry, and that Reek would face severe flaying when they next were alone. But nothing happened, Reek kept his tongue working and the girl kept moaning, and the only sound of his lordship came from his heavy panting. Then his lordship had pushed Reek aside and had him flung from the room, but kept outside the doors so he could listen as his lordship bedded his wife. The screams and the cries still kept Reek awake some nights. The next morning the girl had been shivering and flinching at the slightest bit of movement, not like the real Arya Stark would have, Arya Stark would have fought Bolton back, she would have most likely tried to kill him and would have been killed in the attempt.

Each night Reek was summoned to his lordship's chambers and made to get the girl ready for him, and each night the girl would come apart under Reek's tongue panting and moaning, and then his lordship would enter the room and would claim his rights, sometimes he would keep Reek in the room to watch, and sometimes he would have Reek thrown out of the room but kept in front of the doors so he could hear. It made no difference, Reek could still hear his lordship's pants and groans and the screams of the girl, as his Lordship entered her. Somewhere deep inside of him Reek wanted to scream at Ramsay that the girl he was married to was not Arya Stark, the real Arya Stark was dead, long buried somewhere in King's Landing. He wanted to scream at Lord Bolton that this was all a sham and that the gods would cast them all down to hell, he wanted to scream at the northern lords who stood by and watched silently as an innocent girl was raped and beaten simply so that traitors could claim their reward. Of course though, he said nothing, he kept his mouth shut and prayed and prayed that the days of flaying were over; he did not think he could stand to be flayed once more. He might go mad.

The peace that Reek had found in Winterfell was deeply interrupted when news came from the Wall. Stannis Baratheon had come to the aid of the Night's Watch and had legitimised Jon Sand and made him Jon Stark, Jon had married Alys Stark Robb's widow, Reek did not know Jon Stark nor did he know Alys Stark. But Theon Greyjoy had, Jon Sand had been a solemn and brooding boy when Theon had known him, only laughing and playing when Robb or his sister Jeyne came to play, Theon had thought him boring and had mocked him. Alys Stark had been a beauty, Theon Greyjoy had thought, he had lusted after her but had never pursued her, she was Robb's, and Robb was his friend his brother. Robb was dead though, slain at the Red Wedding by the Freys along with Lady Catelyn and Greywind and countless other northmen and Rivermen. That was not the story that the Bolton's or the Freys were putting out though, they were claiming it had been Robb who had brought the red wedding on himself, that was what they said in the open, but no one paid attention to Reek when they were alone and he heard things, he heard the truth.

Stannis Baratheon had marched west from Deepwood Motte and had taken it from the Ironborn from Asha Greyjoy. She was his prisoner now, and more of the northmen were rallying to his cause. Already he had House Karstark, House Glover, House Mormont, House Wull, House Flint, House Norrey, House Liddle and rumour had it some of the Skagosi tribesmen were coming into help the pretender to the Iron Throne take Winterfell, reporting of boats had been seen of the coast of the Bay of Seals. Tensions were growing in Winterfell though as more and more news of Stannis Baratheon's progress reached them. Tension between the northern houses and the Freys over the Red Wedding, tension between House Umber, Manderly and House Dustin and Ryswell. In the thick of it all was Roose Bolton with his dead and unseeing eyes, who watched and listened to the talk and did nothing.

Except for when a fight broke out between Manderly and Frey men, and Lord Wyman had his multiple chins opened. Then there was a serious fight, and for the first time Reek saw what looked like fear in the Leech Lord's eyes. Stannis Baratheon was a day's ride away from Winterfell, that was what the scouts they had captured had said, Roose Bolton sent men out under Aenys and Hosteen Frey's command to deal with him. He kept the larger part of his strength inside the walls of Winterfell waiting to see what would happen.

There had been deaths within the castle walls before the incident between Manderly and the Freys. It was Frey men dying though, sudden deaths, falling off their horse in the blizzards, falling from the top of the wall whilst on sentry duty. Suspicion had fallen on Reek, but Reek was not Theon Greyjoy and so that had dropped. Then suspicion had turned on Lord Manderly, the man had been overtly happy during and since the wedding and it was curious Reek thought, considering. But no Reek did not believe that Lord Manderly was responsible for the deaths, nor did Lady Dustin. No there had been a hooded man in Winterfell during the wedding and since, he would appear in the castle at the strangest of times and disappear when the bodies of the dead men were found only to reappear once more a few days later, and disappear again. Reek said nothing of the man to anyone, for who would believe him. Half people in Winterfell hated him for a turncloak, though that had been Theon Greyjoy's actions not Reek's and the other half never came near him because of his smell.

When the Freys did not return after two weeks, panic was beginning to set in Winterfell. Roose Bolton's sources in the east coast reported that the Skagosi had landed in the mainland and were heading south, where no one knew but they were heading south with considerable numbers. Lord Bolton sent his son Ramsay out into the bleakness of the Wolfswood with 500 men to see if he could find the Freys and their men. They waited, one day turned into two days, turned into three days turned into a week, and still there was no word. Tensions began to grow and Roose Bolton more often than not could be found in discussion with Rickard Ryswell or Roose Ryswell or Lady Dustin. Two weeks after Lord Ramsay had set out to find the Freys the Skaggs came. Blowing war horns and making guttural noises they came at night and butchered the sentries on the walls, and butchered the guards. But then they themselves were killed, but some of them fled, fled back east and with them was a great big black shaggy direwolf, whom Reek recognised, but from where he knew not.

Then three weeks after Lord Ramsay had been sent out to find the Freys, Steelshanks Walton and Daemon Dance for me returned to Winterfell, bloodied and bruised, and without his lordship. They spoke of the great host that Stannis Baratheon had assembled from Deepwood Motte, 5-6000 northmen and southerners along with some 600 wildlings led by Mance Rayder were marching for Winterfell. They had set upon Lord Ramsay's small part in the Wolfswood and had bloodied and killed the men, his lordship had been badly injured but had fled, to where no one knew. The Freys had been attacked by northmen and southerners caught between the Crofter's Village and the Tumbledown Tower, caught and massacred. Fear was writ plain across Lord Bolton's face. Reek shivered, Winter had finally come for them.

* * *

**Jon**

The wildlings had joined them before they had marched from Deepwood Motte. 600 wildlings south of the wall for the first time since Raymun Redbeard led his failed invasion almost 200 years ago. It turned out that his uncle Benjen had struck a treaty with the wildlings and was having them settle on the gift and help man new castles to help prepare for the oncoming White Walker assault that Mance Rayder claimed was imminent. The man himself was meant to have been burnt in the red woman's fires, but Stannis Baratheon had spared him for the time being, the reason being that Stannis had said quite forcefully that if the Wildings wished to settle in the north they would have to help the north, and that meant fighting the Boltons just now.

Mance Rayder of course had been kept as far away from Mors Umber as possible, Umber lands were always the first to be hit when Wildlings scaled over the wall and as such they had developed a hatred for each other. But the numbers Mance brought with him greatly bolstered their cause, and strengthened their chances. Stannis had listened to his suggestion and had sent scouts on ahead that could give false information to their captors, and as such when their actually scouts had come back and reported that the Freys were marching from Winterfell, Stannis had sent Ser Godry Farring and 500 men with him to the Crofter's Village, and Jon had sent Mors Umber with 500 men to the Tumbledown lands to lie in wait. The trick had worked, with the snow and the blizzards, Farring and Mors were able to lead their men and surround the Freys from both sides, and despite the Freys having bigger numbers Mors and Farring came out on top, that battle had been a massacre, for everyone man of Farring and Mors that died, five Freys died.

As Jon had expected Roose Bolton had begun to worry as the time grew on and went from days into weeks and had sent his bastard to see what the delay was. The snows and blizzards had delayed Ramsay Snow and his men, but Jon had heard tales about the man and his impatience, and had known that it would not be too long before he could kill the man who was wed to his little cousin. The bulk of the host had been kept in the middle of the Wolfswood killing what game they could find and preventing any of the scouts the Bastard of Bolton had sent from getting back to him.

They sent the Wildlings in first. Mance Rayder and 600 wildlings screaming and pounding drums and blowing horns, had spooked the Bastard and his men, their attack had come quickly. Flashes of swords and cries and screams were heard throughout the Wolfswood, the wildlings did not last long but they did what they were supposed to they bloodied the bastard's nose, so that when he marched further north he was caught by more than four times his number. Jon drew Winter's Fury from its sheath and let loose a war cry, screaming for Winterfell, for Robb, for Bran, For Rickon, for uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn, For Arya, for justice.

He spurred his horse on and cut down the first man he came across. After that the battle became a blur of hacking and slashing. He cut down three men within the first few minutes of the fight. He hacked a man's arm off, he sliced a man down from navel to stomach, he cut another man's head off. He kept hacking and slashing, all around him others were doing the same. The screams of battle and pain and agony resounded around the Wolfswood, but Jon did not focus on them no, he was too focussed on killing the men in front of him and of staying alive.

He kept hacking and slashing, his sword piercing through armour and skin alike. Seemingly glowing with the blood it shed, its thirst was not quenched and Jon kept swinging his sword, shouting obscenities as he did so. The battle anger was on him, he kept hacking and slashing and soon both his sword and the ground were stained red. There was hardly anyone left for him to fight.

Ramsay Snow bellowed at him and advanced forward lumbering as he did so, Jon moved forwards to meet him though neither man made any move to strike. Ramsay Snow's patience snapped and swung his sword, it struck Jon's sword but the force of the swing caused sparks to fly off the swords. They broke apart; Ramsay Snow swung wildly again, this time though Jon moved to the left before the swing came and left Snow swinging through thin air. Snow turned around and snarled and ran at Jon, Jon sidestepped him and then quickly thrust his sword into Snow's ribs denting the armour there.

Snow barked in pain, and wheeled round and charged at Jon once more. He swung his sword and this time the force of the swing broke through Jon's defences and struck his armour denting it and causing blood to begin to flow out. Jon grimaced with the pain, but recovered quickly. Soon he and Ramsay were moving through the snow covered ground exchanging blows, their swords clanging through the air, sparks flying and both men were soon covered in dents and bruises and wounds.

Ramsay Snow feinted to the left, but Jon struck him on his right, and managed to break of a piece of his shoulder plate. Snow grimaced in pain but kept fighting, swinging even more wildly than he had when the fight had started. The man's swings did sometimes connect with Jon's body and when they did, Jon felt something like ice hit him, the pain of it causing him to wince and groan in pain. Soon both of their bodies were littered with bruises both visible or otherwise, and both their armours were so dented and stained with red, it looked like so sort of mummer's show.

They were both breathing heavily, but Snow showed no sign of slowing down and charged at Jon again with his sword raised. Jon managed to swerve away from the sword swing at the last minute, and when Snow turned round and charged him again, Jon brought his sword up to block the man's blows. Steel on steel, their dance continued. Sparks flew, and steel screeched, around them the battle was beginning to die down but neither noticed, or even if they did they did not care, this battle would not be truly done until one of them was dead.

Jon feinted to the right, Snow followed him and Jon stretched out his left foot causing Snow to overbalance and begin falling as he did though Snow kicked snow into Jon's face momentarily blinding him, Jon still went through with the thrust though and felt his sword connect with something hard and tough, but then he also felt himself begin to fall backwards, and when his head hit the ground he could not say whether or not he had killed Ramsay Snow or not.

He woke sometime later in a tent, Ghost lying next to the bed. His head pounding in his skull, he tried to get up but the room started spinning and so he flopped back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes, deciding perhaps if he rested for a little while longer he would be better, he slept for the rest of the day. When he woke, the early morning light was beginning to peak through the gap in his tent, his stomach rumbled hungrily. He sat up, and though his head was still pounding he managed to get up and get dressed. Once dressed he walked out of his tent to see what was happening, and what he saw surprised him, they were camped in the Crofter's Village a half a day's ride from Winterfell, the hustle and bustle of the people around him surprised Jon, and his head still pounded.

"Lord Stark," he heard a voice say, and he turned in the direction of the voice and saw King Stannis walking toward him, quickly he bowed. "It is good to see you awake and active again. We were worried that you would not make it."

Jon was confused. "Not make it? Whatever do you mean Your Grace?"

Stannis looked impatient as he said. "When you fought Bolton's Bastard you had him on the floor, yes?" Jon nodded. "Well the man threw snow in your face and it got into your eyes, he then rammed you on the head with the backend of his sword forcing you down, but not before you had broken his armour."

"So is he dead?" Jon asked.

Stannis looked grim when he replied. "No, not that I am aware of. He fled the scene of battle like a craven, though he was bleeding heavily so he most likely is dead."

"And what of the battle Your Grace? How did that go?" Jon asked.

Stannis looked like he was threatening to smile, though his mouth did not change. "We won. Bolton's men were destroyed and killed. The Freys were killed. Roose Bolton is outnumbered now; Wyman Manderly's men found us and have joined our cause. We march for Winterfell."

And so they did, in the cover of a snow storm and the darkness of the night they marched for Winterfell, Jon's head still pounding. When they got near enough to it, the men began to swim through the moat and scaled the wall that was how Jon had heard Theon had taken Winterfell the first time. As he watched the men climb over the wall he kept one hand buried in Ghost's fur, and the other hand on his sword hilt, saying a silent prayer the old gods and the new. He would be the one to kill Roose Bolton; he would avenge Robb and save Arya. When the sound of steel on steel came resounding through the walls and the sound of screams and cries of men in their death throes came and then was silenced, and the gates of Winterfell opened, Jon drew his sword, Ghost howled, and the battle for Winterfell began.

Jon rode his horse through the gates, sword drawn and hacked and slashed at any man who came running toward him, by his side Ghost tore the throat out of any man Jon missed or had not had the chance to kill yet. Soon enough his sword and Ghost's muzzle were stained red with blood. Jon kept hacking and slashing, beside him he heard the men cry and fight and scream as they fought and some died. Briefly he wondered where Mance Rayder and his wildlings were, but only briefly.

He kept swinging his sword and hacking and slashing at any man who came too near him, until the sword was completely red and the ground was littered with dead bodies. The fighting kept going though, men died screaming in agony as their limbs were chopped off or were hacked off. Bolton it seemed was not willing to give up without a fight, and that would make it all the more interesting for Jon.

Eventually though the men in the yard who bore the sigils of House Hornwood, House Cerwyn, House Manderly, and House Ryswell all threw down their swords and surrendered. Jon was sat atop his grey warhorse as Roose Bolton's lifeless body was thrown in front of Stannis Baratheon's horse, a knife through the back, killed by one of his own men. Stannis looked around him a grim expression on his face, and then he looked at Jon.

Jon spurred his mount forward. "You have fought valiantly; you have fought bravely today my lords. But Lord Bolton is dead, his bastard son is dead. The Boltons rule no more in the North. Bend the knee to me and King Stannis and peace shall come to the north. Bend the knee and give me my cousin."

The northmen bent the knee as Jon knew they would, the Stark Banner flapping behind him, though he did suspect they bent more to him than to Stannis Baratheon. As he waited for the men to go and get Arya he looked around the Castle, the place that had been his home for six years. It was a ruin, a burnt ruin. Theon Greyjoy had put it to the torch he had heard, and it seemed so, the castle walls were black and ash was on the snowy ground, he felt something painful stir inside of him.

When they brought forth Arya, he saw her shivering wrapped in a cloak of grey, he dismounted from his horse and walked toward her, and when he got close enough to see her, he stopped dead in his tracks. This girl was not Arya; this girl was one of Sansa's friends, what had been her name Poole? Jeyne Poole that was it. Used as a fake Arya, she had been used to legitimise Bolton's claim to the north and Winterfell. He felt something sick stir in his stomach, something like anger began to boil, if this was Jeyne Poole where was Arya, where was his little cousin, was she truly dead?

He said none of this out loud though, and he kept his silence all throughout the ceremony where the northmen formerly sworn to Bolton bent the knee to Stannis. He kept his silence as Stannis dissolved Jeyne Poole's marriage to Ramsay Snow. He kept his silence when his wife and step daughter arrived in Winterfell several days later, and he kept his silence when Theon Greyjoy was presented to him and he swung the sword that ended that traitor's life.

And when his wife told him she was due very soon he smiled but still he stayed silent. And when Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to every corner of Westeros announcing his victory in the North, still Jon kept his silence. And when the raven came from Storm's End announcing that somebody pretending to be Aegon Targaryen had taken Storm's End still he kept his silence, and when preparations were being made for Stannis's next move still he kept his silence.

He only spoke when his wife put his son, his Stark looking son into his arms and he looked at his boy. He said one thing and one thing only, his son's name. "Rickard."


End file.
